A Torch in the Gloom
by Luna Artemis
Summary: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded over one-thousand years ago by four prestigious witches and wizards. The well-though-out lives of the Founding Four have been craftily woven together in a witty tale.
1. The Hidden Holocaust

What do we know about the four founders of Hogwarts? What does anybody know? Seriously, are there any books out there titled Biographies of the Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Hogwarts was built over one-thousand years ago, so how can anyone be sure of who built it, why and how? Not even the most channeled divinationist nor the wisest wizard know much about the four people who founded the most prestigious wizarding school in the world.  
  
And it's a good thing they do not. For no one would ever guess that Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff were criminals wanted by the Organization for Economic Reformation ...  
  
Chapter One  
  
The Hidden Holocaust  
  
Elizabeth crouched low in the hyacinth bushes. Her hand searched the dark ground. Her bony fingers came upon a palm-sized stone, and she clutched it. Staring through the thick branches (though it did no good to stare, for it was pitch black out), she tossed it into a nearby bush.  
  
A few seconds later the same rock landed with a soft thump in the grass. The coast was clear.  
  
Elizabeth turned to the couple who were silently crouched in the bushes behind her. She pulled the man's hand and he followed as she crawled across the grove. She stretched her hand into the dark space, praying to God that there was not an animal in front of her. There was not. Her hand landed on a log. She rolled the log back, revealing a narrow hole in the ground. She motioned for the husband and wife to climb in.  
  
Elizabeth slid into the hole after them. She carefully rolled the log back over the entrance, making it completely invisible to any creature or person outside. She then turned to look around.  
  
They were standing inside what one would think to be a rabbit hole. The only difference was it was large enough for someone to barely stand up in, and there was a fireplace containing a roaring fire at the opposite end of the entrance. Sitting on a rock near that fire was a powerfully built man with wavy golden hair that reached his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his chin was propped upon his palms, and his elbows were pressing into his knees.  
  
Upon hearing the footsteps in the dirt, he immediately jumped up to greet the couple. "Where you off to tonight, folks?"  
  
"Sweden." said the pale-skinned, rosy-cheeked, hooded woman, who was clutching a silently sleeping child (which had a spell put on it).  
  
"Vhacouvre," clarified the husband.  
  
"Excellent." said the powerful man. "Have either of you used flu powder before?" he motioned to a copper bucket beside the fireplace.  
  
The husband's curious squinting and head tilt was enough of a response.  
  
"Ah, well then. What you must do," the man explained, "is take a handful of the powder -- like this -- toss it into the fire, step into the flames, and clearly state where you wish to go."  
  
He handed the flu powder to the wife, Lydia, who carefully slid the baby into her husband's arms.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she breathed in a sweet, slightly raspy voice.  
  
The man advised, "Now don't be afraid to step into the flames. They don't hurt a bit."  
  
Lydia had been through much scarier things than this fire, and she bravely tossed the powder into the flames, stepped in, and yelled, "Vhacouvre!" She disappeared in a flash.  
  
The husband seemed too tired to be shocked. He outstretched his right arm toward the man, balancing the child in the other. The man shook his hand.  
  
"Thank you so much, sir," said the husband. He reached out to shake Elizabeth's hand, "and God bless you. You're doing a wonderful thing."  
  
He dropped his hand and followed the same suit as his wife. When he had disappeared, Elizabeth sank to the dirt floor and the young man collapsed to the ground, almost banging his head on the small boulder he had been seated on.  
  
"This job is so exhausting!" moaned the man as he leaned against the rock. "If only this wasn't a night job."  
  
"The war does not rest at night," said Elizabeth wisely.  
  
He closed his eyes and after a moment asked, "You're new at this, aren't you?"  
  
Elizabeth, who was lying on the ground a few feet away, rolled onto her stomach and faced him. "I did this at another location. Then I switched to this location because I thought an old friend of mine would be passing through. I wanted to see him before he escaped."  
  
"Who was the friend?" he queried.  
  
"John Trump," she promptly replied.  
  
"Don't recognize it. What did he look like?"  
  
"Well," Elizabeth recalled, "he's old now. Average sized. Scraggly gray hair that you almost never see, as it's usually covered by a worn hat. Torn, faded robes, a weary man."  
  
"Sounds like all of us," he declared.  
  
"I don't think you included yourself in the 'us,'" she pointed out.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, look at yourself. You are strong with clean robes and tamed hair," she said, eyeing his hair with jealous eyes.  
  
He snorted. "I was born broad-shouldered. The robes are freshly stolen. And as for my hair, I'd cut it off if I had the tools. But unfortunately I'm one of the many who were caught by the OFER. They snapped my wand in half. I have not been able to give myself a haircut since."  
  
Elizabeth was so taken aback by what he had said that she did not catch up on the fact that she had a wand and could do the job. "You were caught by the OFER? How did you escape?"  
  
"Long story," he yawned, stretching out onto the soil floor. "How about you tell me your story instead? What's your name, anyway?"  
  
"Elizabeth. And yours?"  
  
"Thomas. Where are you from?"  
  
"I'm from the same place as all of us. The slums."  
  
"But you looked kind of, well ... not English," he said.  
  
"What do you mean, 'not English'?" she demanded.  
  
"Well, your skin is much tanner than anyone I've met. Your eyes are slightly narrower, your hair is blacker than a crow's wing. You even have a slight accent. Though I can't decipher what kind."  
  
"I simply have different roots than most people you know, that's all," she sniffed.  
  
"Whatever," he made himself comfortable (or as comfortable as one could get on a dirt floor) and commanded, "Now tell me a bedtime story."  
  
"Bedtime story?" Elizabeth said skeptically, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah. A bedtime story. You know what those are, right? Your parents told you them, right?"  
  
She made a funny noise with her throat. "You know, you're not what you appear to be."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well," she chose her words carefully, for the least thing she wanted to do was upset a 75-percent muscle man, "you look like a hejball player."  
  
Hejball was the most popular sport at the time, made for only the roughest and toughest men. When quidditch is invented (for it would not be invented for another hundred years), hejball would be put to shame.  
  
The man yawned. He was all too used to being told this, and he easily shrugged it off. "Yeah, sure, if you say so. Now how bout that story?"  
  
She sniffed. "Fine. I'll tell you one."  
  
"Yay! I win," Thomas made himself comfortable on the floor once again and listened with keen ears.  
  
"It started a few years back," she began, "when the Minister of Magic, Denamore Clarke, proposed a law that made the wealthy pay higher taxes than the poor. People in poverty, like us, agreed with this law. But the wealthy thought they were being penalized for having money. So they formed--"  
  
"Oh must you tell this story?" whined Thomas. "I only lived through it and then heard it all over one thousand and one times!"  
  
"Good. It will be boring, and so you'll go to sleep." Elizabeth did not let him get his way. "Now, this group of wealthy witches and wizards formed the Organization for Economic Reformation, or OFER. They protested this law. They wanted everybody to be taxed equally. Then the protests turned into riots.  
  
"They threatened people from the slums that if they did not join with them, they would be seriously hurt. More merciful wizards bribed the poor to join them. They thought that the Minister of Magic would only listen to the common person, not a wealthy witch or wizard who had everything their heart desired already.  
  
"It became dark times. People in poverty did not know if an OFER member would pop into their fireplace at any given time and threaten their family to join the rebels. Many people boarded up their fireplaces. When winter came, some froze to death, just because they were so paranoid.  
  
Thomas interrupted, "And this story is supposed to make me fall into a peaceful sleep, how?"  
  
"Hey, you asked for a bedtime story, and you got one, now deal with it."  
  
He mumbled something that sounded like "slave driver" or "moody."  
  
"Anyway, I'll continue. OFER overpowered the Ministry. Clarke was overthrown. They were in power now. They passed a horrible law that there was to be no more poverty. And in order to do that, the slums must be wiped out completely. So they went around killing the homeless adults and taking the children to new, rich families. That's where we came in. People like us have the job of guarding secret portals that allow poor folk to escape to other countries. We lead them here, and ... "  
  
Elizabeth fell asleep in mid sentence. Thomas was right in saying that the story was dull. Especially since they had lived through it. Or were living through it, for the war was not over yet.  
  
~*~  
  
In the heart of London, where the homeless crawled the streets like blind ants, in desperate search for food and safety, where people put themselves in danger simply by stepping out their door, where the filthiest of all mud- puddle, dirt-ball creatures lived, was a manor. Twenty-foot hedges that were cursed to swallow anyone who tried to break in surrounded this rose among weeds.  
  
Within this manor lived a simple family: a mother, a father, and a nineteen- year-old, tall, red-haired son. The parents were strong members of the OFER. Their son, Erich, however, was not.  
  
Erich (German way of spelling Eric, pronounced the same) stood in the doorway of his parents' room. He watched them as they lay in a peaceful slumber on their feather mattress. He stood there for a very long time, taking a good look at the both of them. He whispered in a voice so barely audible that not even a mosquito buzzing around his head could hear him say, "Goodbye."  
  
He closed the door with a soft click behind him and crept down the corridor, slid down the marble staircase, and slunk out the front door. He did not stop walking until he reached the outer hedges, and found himself in the dark, empty mud streets. He turned to his house and drew his wand from his pocket.  
  
"Accio broom!"  
  
Within a few seconds, a broom had flown out his bedroom window and into his hands. Quidditch had not yet been invented (it may have been easier to explain this earlier, but the year is 789), and the sole purpose of brooms was for transportation. He mounted his broom, kicked off, and soared into the starry sky. He had succeeded in running away from his home, and was now going to do what he had dreamed of doing for years: help fight the OFER.  
  
~*~  
  
The final stop we will make is in Vhacouvre, Sweden. In this mountain- countryside was a farm cottage called "Nilsson Notch." It was owned by Mrs. Eva Nilsson (whose husband had passed away a few years back), her daughter, and her four sons.  
  
Anna Nilsson was the only daughter. She was thin from lack of sugary foods. Her hair was blond, but not a Barbie blond. Wavy-curly blond hair, with streaks of white in it. She worked hard all day around the farm. While the older two brothers and her mother went off to work in town, she and the younger two boys milked the cows, herded sheep, fed pigs and chickens, cooked, sewed, and cleaned. It was a simple life. They worked hard for a living, and made it every month when the tax collectors came. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened there. Nothing, that is, until March 27, 789.  
  
Anna was sitting in a rocking chair, mending her sibling's torn clothes. Her little brothers were cleaning the pigs. The rest of the family was working in town. She rocked, knitted, rocked, knitted ... it was so quiet. And then-  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Anna gave a start and her eyes darted toward where the voice had come from. Standing in the fireplace was a cloaked woman. She brought down her hood.  
  
"Oh dear, I'm truly sorry," the woman with the pale face and red cheeks apologized. "I just, er--a mistake, I'm not going to harm you."  
  
It was lucky Anna knew English. Otherwise she would have grabbed a defense tool at once. Instead, she said, "Vat are you doing 'ere?"  
  
"I-I'm sorry, I just--" she could not seem to find the right words.  
  
She was saved, however, for at that moment a man holding a baby appeared in the fireplace, as well.  
  
He stepped out. "This child has been a godsend all night. He hasn't cried once. Not even--"  
  
He suddenly saw his wife's scared pale face and Anna's confused look. Anna reached for a candlestick.  
  
"Oh don't worry! We are not going to harm you," the man repeated what his wife had said, "we're refugees from England."  
  
Anna lowered the candlestick slightly, her eyes widening. "London?"  
  
"Er--yes," the husband said. "London. You speak English?"  
  
"Yes, I do speak English," she said with a strong accent. She tightened her grip on the candlestick again. "Now tell me, vat are you doing 'ere?"  
  
"Well, like I said. We're refugees. We escaped to a free country so we would not be caught by the OFER."  
  
"Rayfugees?" Anna became suspicious. "Have you committed a crime?"  
  
"Being born," the man muttered.  
  
The woman (Lydia, if you remember) spoke up. "The government wants to kill us because we are poor. We escaped from Britain to here. I'm sorry if we scared you. We did not mean to end up in your fireplace. We just never use flu powder, and there must have been a mix-up, and ... "  
  
"Vlu powder?" Anna sounded interested. That phrase rang a bell. If it was what she thought it was, then she was in luck. "Do you mean vasquen? You travel by flame?"  
  
"Yes, I-I suppose so," stammered Lydia.  
  
"Do you haf any left?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"There are a few specks on my hand," the man offered, "and a little on the baby's blankets."  
  
Anna dropped her candlestick to the floor, making Lydia jump. Anna did not care. She brushed the powder into her palm and marveled at it. This stuff was her ticket out of the house. Out of Sweden to move onto a better home. She had long dreamed (though never spoke a word of it) of a better, more exciting life in a land where sheep did not outnumber the people five to one. But what about her family? What would they do without her? Then she had an idea.  
  
"Do you haf a place to stay?" she asked the couple.  
  
They exchanged glances and shook their heads.  
  
"Vell you can stay 'ere. Mama is in town now. She will be back tonight for supper. You may take my bedroom. It is upstairs at the end. I cannot vrite, so explain to her who you are ven she gets home. But now, I must go."  
  
"Where are you going?" questioned Lydia nervously.  
  
Anna scooped an armful of logs from a bucket and arranged them in the fireplace. She took the flint box off the mantle and with trembling fingers lit a fire. Without even giving the family one last smile or a "good luck", she threw the powder into the flames, stepped in, and yelled, "LONDON!"  
  
"No!" yelled the husband. But it was too late. She was gone.  
  
"Why would she ever go to that horrid place?" asked the wife, staring into the fire with horrified eyes.  
  
The man shook his head. "A young girl wanting to get away from this place. You'd know more about that than I would. She must have been what--sixteen? Seventeen? I'd want to leave this place too, if I were her. Get out of this small lifestyle." He sighed.  
  
"Do you think she'll be all right?" Lydia asked anxiously.  
  
The man shook his head and pointed at the floor beneath the rocking chair.  
  
"She dropped her wand."  
  
~*~  
  
Elizabeth rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. It was impossible to sleep like this, on the dirt floor with flame shadows dancing all around her, and spontaneous cracks and pops emitting from the fireplace. She pulled herself onto her stomach, got out her wand, waved it around and muttered, "Cupio hora." Someone from the 21st century would have called it a holagram; there appeared a picture of a large clock face in mid-air. It had a lime-green circumference and a smoky-black face. Twelve golden hands, all of different shapes and sizes, were trailing the numbers. This clock, although ticking, could not be held, moved, or touched, for it was simply an image.  
  
"Three AM," she groaned. She flopped onto her back and waved her wand behind her head. The clock disappeared in a puff black smoke, which faded away.  
  
She pressed her palms into her eyes. In two hours there was another wave of people she had to meet up with at Hedgeman's Warf to lead to the portal. How was she ever going to get enough rest?  
  
Her ears suddenly picked up a sound. It sounded like a woman's scream. But where was it coming from? Elizabeth's body tensed and her ears pricked, suddenly burning. Whatever it was, it was drawing nearer. Elizabeth sat bolt upright and stared into the fire. The flames morphed into a blue hue, and stretched upward. And then, as if regurgitating something repulsive, it spat out a young woman. A young woman with wavy blond hair, half of it pulled back, the other half fallen out. She wore a white shirt covered by a tight black vest, and a large black skirt.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Elizabeth, raising her wand abruptly to the girl's face.  
  
The girl stepped out and smiled, looking around the burrow. She said something in a different language, though it seemed to be more to herself than to Elizabeth.  
  
"Explain yourself, now!" Elizabeth cried viciously, jumping to her feet, at which point Thomas woke up.  
  
"Oh why'd you have to wake me up?" he whined, rolling over and not opening his eyes. "I was having such a nice dream."  
  
"I don't care about that right now, Thomas! Wake up! A strange girl is here!" She barked, kicking his side.  
  
Thomas jumped up, hitting his head on the boulder (which had been his seat previously). He grabbed his head and fell back down. The strange girl rushed over to help him, but with a swift stride Elizabeth blocked her off.  
  
"I don't think so. Tell me who you are now. I know a lot of spells that could make your pretty hair fall off your pretty head."  
  
"My name is Anna," she said with her Swedish accent. She peered over Elizabeth's shoulder, being more concerned with Thomas than her. "Is he alvight?"  
  
Elizabeth turned around. "Hey Thomas, ya'll right there?"  
  
"Yeah, just a little bump," he said, letting go of his head and standing up woozily. He was trying to look tough in front of the blond girl.  
  
She turned back to Anna. "See? He's fine. Now explain yourself."  
  
Anna took a deep breath. "I come from Vhacouvre, Sveden. A man and woman with a baby came to my home from my, er ... " she pointed to the fire.  
  
"Fireplace?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Yes, vireprace. I got flu powder from dem and came here."  
  
"Why?" asked Thomas plainly.  
  
Anna sighed and stared at him with passionate eyes. "Oh, if only you know 'ow I lived. In dat cottage tucked away in the mountains, with noting exciting or fun to do--"  
  
"OK thanks for preaching, you can go now," Elizabeth interrupted.  
  
Anna eyed her dangerously. "I find you very rude. If I had known the people of England were this rude, I vould not haf come."  
  
"Good idea!" Elizabeth yelled enthusiastically. "Well there's some flu powder over there. Why don't you send youself back to the merry countryside and get out of this place. You don't belong here."  
  
"Wait! Don't go!" Thomas cried.  
  
Elizabeth gave him a look to make a lion turn into a mouse. He shrunk back into the corner.  
  
"OK, fine then," Elizabeth turned back to Anna. "You can stay here. But you have to help us."  
  
Anna's face broke into a wide smile. "Oh, I will! I will do anyting! Vat must I do?"  
  
"Save poor people from being slaughtered by bringing them here," Elizabeth said simply, as if asking her to go to the store and pick up milk.  
  
Her eyes widened in terror. "Oh, dat is horrible! Is dat vat de couple was running away from?"  
  
"Assuming they're the same people that passed through here earlier on, then yes."  
  
Anna's eyes welled tears. "Who--and why?"  
  
Thomas begged, "Oh please don't tell the story again."  
  
"Don't worry, I won't," Elizabeth said, sitting on the rock. "All you have to know, Miss--"  
  
"Anna," she smiled brightly and curtsied.  
  
"--Miss Anna, is to keep your mouth shut at all times and be as quiet as possible. Got it?"  
  
She nodded vigorously.  
  
"Good," Elizabeth sighed. "Now--"  
  
She stopped in mid-sentence.  
  
"What is it?" asked Thomas, always on alert for something wrong.  
  
Elizabeth held up a hand, and whispered, "I think I hear something."  
  
Not hearing her, Thomas yelled back, "What?"  
  
At that moment, there came a crashing noise. Anna screamed and hid behind Thomas. Elizabeth jumped onto the boulder, ready to fight. But what she was capable of fighting was nothing compared to what invaded the burrow.  
  
The ceiling entrance had been blown open, and wizards dressed in black cloaks came pouring in. Elizabeth stumbled backwards over the rock. Quick on her feet, she dashed for the fireplace. But she was not quick enough. A wizard grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back. She screamed. She kicked. She did everything she could, but they were caught. The OFER had somehow found out about the portal, and now they were like dragons in water.  
  
The three struggled as they were being dragged out. She heard Anna sobbing, "I vant to go home! I vant to go home!" Thomas was battling with all his might. It took three wizards to drag him out into the grove. Elizabeth kicked the person holding her. He cried out in pain and let go of her. She ran. But even the fastest runner cannot outrun a curse. She heard someone scream something from behind. An electric shock ran all over her body. She shuddered, and fell to the ground, unconscious.  
  
~*~  
  
Erich circled above the canopy of a dense forest. Finding the right spot, he plunged through the treetops and jerked to a stop on the ground. He unmounted his broom in front of a huge moss-covered oak tree.  
  
"Well, this must be the place," he looked over the colossal tree, damp from a light evening rain.  
  
Erich approached it, and pulled back a large sheet of bark. He wiped his wet soiled hands on his robes and stooped low as he entered the inside of the dark tree trunk.  
  
"Lumos."  
  
It was empty. Empty? But how could that be? This was the right place, wasn't it? He walked back outside into the light of breaking dawn. He pulled a map out of his robes pocket, unfolded it, and read it carefully. This was the right place. But why was no one here? Oh no. They must have been ...  
  
Erich folded up the map abruptly. He stuffed his pocket, and remounted his broom. He had to take action. As he soared back up into the sky, he formed a rescue plan in his head. His only comforting thought was, thank God my parents are part of the OFER.  
  
~*~  
  
"Elizabeth ... " droned a distant yet familiar voice.  
  
Elizabeth ignored it.  
  
"Elizabeth ... "  
  
Why wouldn't it go away?  
  
"Elizabeth ... "  
  
"WHAT?" Elizabeth woke up to complete darkness and sat upright. She felt a sharp pain in her head and grabbed it. She must have gotten hurt in the struggle. "Where am I?"  
  
"Prison," came Anna's voice from a few feet away.  
  
Elizabeth choked. "P-P-P--"  
  
"We were captured by de OFER," Anna explained calmly.  
  
"No!" Elizabeth jumped to her feet. "No!" she began to pace around wildly. This couldn't have happened. She needed to think of a way out, and fast. Before-  
  
"Anna!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is there anyone else in this, er--room?"  
  
"No."  
  
Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Actually," Anna recalled, "Dere was one woman here earlier. A strange person came in and asked her if she had any money. She said yes, and he told her to follow him."  
  
"Oh Lord. Anna, do you have any money?"  
  
"No," she said sadly.  
  
"Ergh!" Elizabeth threw her hands into the air and stared at the place where she thought Anna was. "Well didn't you think you needed a little pecuniae to start a new life?"  
  
"Elizabeth, I don't know vat kind of language you are speaking, but--"  
  
"Don't speak. I need to think of a way out."  
  
Anna shut her mouth resentfully. Elizabeth put her hands out in front of her and walked cautiously forward. "How large is this roo--ew!"  
  
Her hands had met something sticky. She yanked her arms back and could feel glops of a jelly-like substance covering her hands. She waved her hands madly, flinging it into Anna's eyes.  
  
"Vat is vat?" Anna wiped the gooey substance from her eyes. She was still slightly mad at Elizabeth for telling her to shut up.  
  
"Feel this."  
  
Anna cautiously came towards Elizabeth. She reached her arms out. Even though it was pitch black, Elizabeth could tell that Anna had touched the wall when she cried, "Ahh! Get it off! Get it off!" Anna waved her arms madly, the jelly-like substance flying all over Elizabeth.  
  
Elizabeth thought aloud, "This seems so familiar," she prodded it gently, "I recall hearing about this before. Oh, what was it? I think this wall is made of metamorphane."  
  
"Meta---vat?" Anna was perplexed.  
  
Elizabeth continued her train of thought. "Oh, what was the curse? I was taught a curse to melt metamorphane. John Trump told me it came in handy when trying to rob a Gringotts vault. Of course, I wouldn't know, but oh what was it?"  
  
Elizabeth took up her pacing again. "It began with an L. Let's see ... larkus ... limoniate ... lumos ... lemonious ... "  
  
"Don't you need your wand?" queried Anna skeptically.  
  
"No, it's one of the few spells that does not require a wand, which is why it is so hard. You -- wait, where is my wand?"  
  
Anna shrugged, though Elizabeth did not see it. "I suppose you must haf dropped it back in de woods."  
  
Elizabeth grunted. "Well at any rate, you must be really experienced in order to pull it off," she went back to her contemplations. "Let's see ... lartinium ... lackagh ... lori--lori--Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue! Lori--lori--"  
  
"Oh, for goodness sake!" Anna cried.  
  
"That's it! Sake-- Lorisakius!" Elizabeth yelled, jumping up and down. "Anna, you're a genius! I'd give you a hug if it were not so dark. Lorisakius, lorisakius, lorisakius. I can't forget it now."  
  
Elizabeth ran in one direction a few paces until she bounced off a metamorphane wall. Closing her eyes (as if it made any difference) and breathing evenly, she collected her thoughts. She whispered the spell several times, practicing the arm movements, until she finally decided she was ready.  
  
"Lorisakius!" she called out loud and clear, waving her two arms in two swift circles.  
  
She opened her eyes and saw a hole form in the wall. The gooey substance dripped slowly from it, and the hole slowly grew. It grew until it was about big enough for a cat to slip through. Then it stopped.  
  
"Anna, try this as well," Elizabeth commanded.  
  
"Vat must I do?" she asked from her corner.  
  
"Come over here."  
  
Elizabeth showed Anna the movements in the slight sunlight that was issueing through the hole.  
  
"Like this--Lorisakius!" Elizabeth waved her arms.  
  
The hole suddenly increased dramatically. Metamorphane bled from the wall rapidly. The hole was now large enough for a small person to squeeze through.  
  
"Finish it off," Elizabeth commanded.  
  
Anna concentrated hard. "Lorisakius!" she waved her arms. Nothing happened. "Lorisakit! Lorisakimus!"  
  
"Concentrate!" Elizabeth barked. "Don't wing it. Concentrate really hard."  
  
She did. And when she uttered the spell, the wall split open, welcoming an array of blinding light into the tiny prison. Shielding her eyes, Elizabeth ventured a step outside the prison, not even checking to see if there were guards around. Lucky for her, there were not.  
  
Anna followed, blocking her eyes from the sun. "Vere are we?"  
  
For once Elizabeth had no answer. She blinked many times to adjust her eyesight. Still, she could see little. It took several minutes before they could finally decipher the view in front of them.  
  
It was amazing. Their 'prison' had been a small pink dome, large enough for about ten people to fit inside of it comfortably. And it was not part of a building, but a neighborhood.  
  
They were on a mountain. Farthest up the barren mountain was their prison. and, looking down, the two of them saw other pink domes dotting the rocky path. No trees in sight or any sign of life. Only rocks and prisons.  
  
"Well, let's get cracking," said Elizabeth.  
  
The two witches hopped from dome to dome, chanting the curse, melting the walls, freeing the prisoners, teaching them the curse, and continuing. Before they knew it, the mountainside was swarming with poverty-stricken prisoners. All were in raggedy torn robes. All were smeared with dirt and scars that told stories of resistance and pain. But now was their chance to escape.  
  
"Vere are we going?" Anna yelled to Elizabeth as they raced over the boulders. The mob of scrubby prisoners was close at their heels, having semi-consciously elected Anna and Elizabeth as the leaders.  
  
"I don't know! You were the one who was awake on the way here!" Elizabeth called back.  
  
"Just go with the flow!" a random voice called out. And that was how the commonly used phrase got started. Just go with the flow.  
  
The mob ran downwards over the rocks. And ran. And ran. Elizabeth, who was leading the gang, could not see over the rocks in front of her, so she had no idea if there was a drop-off or army of OFER soldiers or a giant dragon waiting just over the next boulder.  
  
They ran until they reached woods. They disappeared into the trees, weaving in and out of the numerous pines and oaks.  
  
"It seems to me," Anna panted, coming up next to Elizabeth, "dat we are getting away vith this far too easily."  
  
She spoke all too soon. For at that moment, they felt the world open beneath them. Elizabeth and Anna fell into an unseen hole. They screamed as they fell into the abyss below until they hit the ground with a thud. They looked up. The hole they had fallen into closed abruptly. They were in an underground chamber, with tall dirt walls lit by torches, and a high dirt ceiling overhead, in which the sounds of thousands of feet could be heard pounding on. They had fallen into the OFER World Headquarters.  
  
"I suppose you thought that was terribly clever," came a voice.  
  
Anna and Elizabeth jumped to their feet at this statement. They looked around, and suddenly realized that a man was standing a few feet in front of them, his back turned, pouring himself a glass of wine.  
  
"Who are you?" Elizabeth braved as Anna cowered behind her.  
  
The man turned around, and Elizabeth gasped, stumbling backwards.  
  
"I think the question is," he took a sip of wine, "who are you?"  
  
He was Lord Moore, a member of the OFER closet. The Closet (similar to the US Cabinet), was a group of men and women held in high position in OFER. They helped lead the poverty holocaust and were advisors to the man in charge of the entire operation.  
  
Lord Moore was a man around the age of sixty. He wore a black cloak and a maroon cape like all members of the Closet. A single spectacle shaded his right eye. His washed and combed hair was currently blond, though when it was dry it was surely the color of a dove's wing.  
  
"Now," he said calmly, "tell me what in the name of Mephastopheles convinced you that you could get away with a jailbreak?"  
  
Elizabeth took a breath and stepped forward. "Well, we got away with it, didn't we?"  
  
Moore, who had been sipping at a glass of wine, gave a choking noise. Elizabeth smiled inwardly. He swallowed, coughed, and cleared his throat.  
  
When he spoke, his voice was at first raspy. "Yes, I'd expect--" he cleared his throat again. "I'd expect a low-born, dirt-breathing, mudblood like yourself to actually believe she could beat out the OFER."  
  
Elizabeth's hand plunged into her pocket for her wand. Remembering it wasn't there, she rounded on Anna.  
  
"Give me your wand!" Elizabeth screamed.  
  
Anna meekly mumbled, "I left it at home."  
  
Lord Moore cackled. "You dirt-breather! Don't you realize that even if you had a wand, you're no match against me?"  
  
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What are you planning on doing to us?" Her voice showed no hint of pleading.  
  
Lord Moore opened his mouth, but was suddenly cut off as the double oak doors at the opposite end of the chamber burst open.  
  
"Lord Moore, Lord Moore!"  
  
A tall, carrot-topped boy of about the age eighteen came stumbling in, panting.  
  
"What is it, boy?" demanded the lord.  
  
The boy slouched over to the table where Moore had poured himself his wine. His bony knuckles turned white as they gripped the edge. He was panting too hard to reply.  
  
"Speak, boy!"  
  
"My--" he breathed deeply, "my father--Lord Fiedler, he sent for your-- urgent--go to meet him at once."  
  
The fact that this was the son of one of the lord's most trusted partners seemed to not matter to him at the moment.  
  
"Guards!" Lord Moore clapped his hands and immediately, two bulky men ambled in.  
  
"Take these two dirt-breathers to the prisons. Not the metamorphane ones."  
  
With no further command, Lord Moore briskly left the room, bumping into the table in his hurry.  
  
The massive guards obediently seized Anna and Elizabeth and marched them out of the room. The red-haired boy's eyes followed them as they left. Elizabeth glared back at him. There was something about that boy that didn't seem right. The thought fled her mind as she was shoved out of the chamber and down a flight of dark, wet stone stairs.  
  
After walking through a slimy puddle in the dark for a long enough time that Anna almost passed out, they stopped. They heard a jangle of keys and the hideous screech of rusted iron. The two girls were shoved forward and a door was slammed behind them.  
  
Elizabeth breathed into a puddle of slimy water, and listened to the footsteps die away. When she could no longer feel the stone floor shake under their massive feet, she jumped up and ran blindly forward, slamming into metal bars.  
  
"Ow!" she rubbed her forehead with soiled fingers.  
  
"Are you alvight?"  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
"Who said that?"  
  
"You tell me who you are first."  
  
"Vat is going on?" Anna screamed.  
  
"There's someone else in here," Elizabeth said quietly. She slowly walked around the cell. She yelled as menacingly as she could, "Where are you?"  
  
"In the corner."  
  
Elizabeth stretched her arms in front of her and walked stiffly forward. She had heard once that if you lose one of your senses, your other senses become keener. Keeping this in mind, she shut her eyes (for it was pitch black, and her eyesight was useless anyway).  
  
"You're going in the wrong direction," the voice nagged.  
  
"You can't see me," Elizabeth challenged the person's superiority.  
  
"Of course I cannot."  
  
"Then why -- how can you -- ugh!" Elizabeth threw her arms into the air and sank to the floor. She sat cross-legged, her elbow propped on her knee, her hand covering her face. Her fingers pressed circles on her temples, drummed her eyelids, and pressed the tip of her nose.  
  
When she had finished massaging her face, Elizabeth asked softly, "Who are you?"  
  
"Why don't you both gather around," the voice suggested. "If you, on the floor, would crawl forward five paces, and you, by the door, would take three steps this way, you will both be in front of me."  
  
Marveling at the stranger's intelligence, they both obeyed.  
  
"Now," (the person had been right, for their voice now seemed closer), "do either of you have anything made from an animal? Leather, fur, hide?"  
  
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say no, but Anna spoke up.  
  
"Yes, dis string--" there came a sound of string being pulled through holes -- "vrom my vest. Made of niffler hide. Here."  
  
The stranger muttered something, and a moment later the string in the person's hand illuminated. Elizabeth and Anna shielded their eyes from the electric blue rays of light that shot from the string, which she (for the stranger was, after all, a woman) was now coiling into a cylindrical shape in her hand.  
  
The sight of the woman made Elizabeth choke back a gasp, and made Anna almost faint. She looked old beyond old. She was an Ancient. Her sunken black eyes appeared to be holes in a heap of wrinkles. Her black rags had a slight shade of maroon in them, hinting that they may once have been expensive robes (for colored robes were indeed pricey).  
  
It was Anna who at last spoke. "Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Kiria Banks. I am in prison for being one of the political leaders that the OFER opposes."  
  
"Political leader?" Elizabeth suddenly took interest, "I never heard of the leader Kiria Banks."  
  
"I'd hope not," Miss Banks' black eyes sent chills over Elizabeth's body. There was something about them that was very moving, almost as if they had an untold story behind them.  
  
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, this time without doubt or sarcasm.  
  
"My story," the Ancient croaked, "is quite a long one. I would like to also hear your stories."  
  
"You first," Elizabeth responded. Though she felt somewhat respectful of this woman, Elizabeth did not drop her guard.  
  
"Very well then." Miss Banks leaned back and closed her eyes. After a minute of utter silence, she at last spoke. "I suppose my story begins, and ends, with my obsession with power. At twenty, I had been fully educated by tutors hired by my wealthy parents. I was smarter at that age than most people in the world. I desired a job in the Ministry -- no, as the actual Minister. My parents were traditionalists, and so they at first opposed me getting a job rather than marrying. But they knew damn well how clever I was. Though they never admitted it, I was more intelligent than them. So they gave in and allowed me to take up a job.  
  
"I started in the lowest position: Secretary of Experimental Charms. My job was to record all discovered spells, and not ask any questions. Secretly, I studied the workers of this department as they invented new spells. I learned how they did it, and I myself invented a number of them."  
  
"Like what?" Elizabeth asked, unable to contain her curiosity.  
  
Miss Banks took out her wand.  
  
"How do you have your wand?!" exclaimed Elizabeth.  
  
"I will get to that part," she said, for it was very much linked to a part of her story. She then said clearly, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and with a swish and flick of her wand, the coil of illuminated leather string lifted from her palm, and hovered in midair at eye level for a few seconds before falling back into her palm.  
  
"Dat was amazing!" squealed Anna, who never ceased to be amazed by the world.  
  
Miss Banks smiled and recoiled the string. "Now, to get back to my story.  
  
"I quickly worked my way up the ladder. Pretty soon I was head of the Anti- Muggle Communications Department. My job was to make sure no muggle ever saw a messenger. If anyone did, squad was sent to perform a memory charm. It was quite annoying, and using wizards on broomsticks as messengers, I quickly realized, was very inconvenient. So I came up with a new system: owlery."  
  
"Owl--what?" asked a confused Elizabeth.  
  
"Owlery," The Ancient told her. "The use of owls to deliver messages."  
  
"I never heard of such a thing!" cried Elizabeth.  
  
"Ever wondered how the OFER has run this war without a single muggle knowing of it? They took my idea of using owls. Not one single message has fallen into muggle hands since it has been introduced. That was nineteen years ago."  
  
Elizabeth was still skeptical, but she allowed the Ancient to continue.  
  
"By this time, I was twenty-seven. I had been working in the Ministry for six years. Denamore Clarke was the Minister. All seemed to be going well. Clarke realized how witty I was, and he asked me to be his partner. I accepted at once. It was my life-long dream to be a Minister."  
  
At this point, Elizabeth could no longer hold back. "You worked with Denamore Clarke? Inventing spells and using owls as messengers was hard enough to believe, but this is where I draw the line!"  
  
"Actually," said Miss Banks, "I'm glad you don't believe me. No one was supposed to know about me. I was the advisor and partner of Denamore Clarke, which was strictly against the law. A woman being a Minister? It was simply out of the question. So it was kept a secret. The name Kiria Banks was never spoken on the lips of wizards outside the Ministry building. Only the Minister and a few held in high position knew. If anyone else found out, I would surely be hung."  
  
She paused, as if expecting Elizabeth to question further. She did not.  
  
"Now," the Ancient continued, "Denamore and I created an awesome partnership. We were unstoppable. We could always cook up a solution to any problem. Though it was a bit of a pain, him always attending meetings while I stayed locked in my room the whole time. Once again, I could not reveal myself. I found enough free time during his meetings that I even invented new technology. For instance, have either of you ever heard of a photogram?"  
  
They shook their heads. She dug into her robes pocket and pulled out wrinkled bit of parchment. Holding it to the light of the tiny square of paper, Elizabeth and Anna could see a perfect picture -- not painted nor sketched -- but a perfect image of a young woman with dark bobbed hair and black eyes like a raven. The picture was black and white and the woman was moving.  
  
"How extraordinary!" exclaimed Elizabeth, this time truly impressed.  
  
"I'm glad you approve," smiled the old woman. It is a photogram of my younger self. I am twenty-nine in this photo. I invented a machine that could take the image of a person and put it on paper. I recorded how to make one and how it is used, in hopes that someday in the future someone would find those plans and make another photogram. For there was political turmoil arising in the British wizarding world. Throughout my life, I had always made the right decisions. But not then. When Denamore came to me asking if he should accept or reject the bill proposing to raise taxes and give money to the poor, I told him to approve it. It was a mistake which I regret to this day. The rich became angry and banded together to form the OFER. It did not take long to form. A year after the bill was passed, a group of once-close friends who had turned to the OFER stabbed Denamore on his way to work. It was chaos from there on in. The ministry gave in to the OFER. I was supposed to be killed. I don't know if it was the little chivalry they had left or their shear fear of me, but they did not kill me as they did my partner. Instead, they locked me in this dungeon and swore to make my life hell if I tried to escape. But they feared me, and I knew it. They did not even try to take my wand. That almost fourteen years ago."  
  
Questions exploded in Elizabeth's head like fireworks. "But why -- how come --"  
  
"Did you love Denamore Clarke?" interrupted Anna.  
  
Miss Banks' eyes glistened in the blue light. "I did. We tried to hide our love from each other, for it would only interfere with our work. But it was too strong, even for me. We were in love long enough for me to bear him a child. I was so ashamed that I never told him. As soon as it was born, I stashed it away in an orphanage. I found out later that the orphanage had been sacked by the OFER."  
  
"Wait a minute," Elizabeth said. "You said you were in here for fourteen years. You also said that nineteen years ago, you invented owlering, or whatever you call it. Then you claimed that you were twenty-seven when you invented it. So that would make you --"  
  
"Fourty-six," replied the Ancient.  
  
"Well, no offense meant, ma'am," Elizabeth said, "but you don't exactly look fourty-six."  
  
"No offense taken. My experiences have aged me. Being hidden from the sun for more than a decade has caused serious health problems. My time in this life is almost over," she sighed and leaned back against the slimy wall. "I have forseen it."  
  
"Elisabeth," Anna suddenly remembered, "vhat did dat man upstairs in de chamber call you?"  
  
A shadow passed over Elizabeth's face. "He called me a dirt-breather and a mudlbood."  
  
"Yes, vhat does dat mean?"  
  
"A dirt-breather is a cruel name for us poor folk," Elizabeth spat. "'Cause to people like him, we eat, sleep, and breathe dirt. Hell, we are dirt. And as for a mudblood, that's a nasty term for muggle-born. Though I have no idea how he knew..." there was another curious pause, and then Elizabeth changed back to the topic. "Miss Banks, why haven't you escaped?"  
  
"There is nothing for me out there. I have done my duties in life," she paused to consider. "And also I have another reason."  
  
The two girls leaned in intently.  
  
Miss Banks cleared her raspy throat. "For the first few months of imprisonment, I was considering escaping. Yet, a series of dreams prevented me. Now I take my dreams very seriously, mind you. Your mind would not work while its body sleeps for no good reason."  
  
Anna asked, "Vhat vas in de dreams?"  
  
"My dreams," she told them, "spoke of -- no, didn't speak, for there is no speaking in dreams. They projected my purpose in life. My role in this life will effect thousands in later years. As a wise man once said, 'What we do in this life echoes throughout eternity.' So here is my deal.  
  
"In my dreams, I received images of two young woman. They were prophesized to come to me when it seemed all hope was lost. Under my instructions, they, along with two others their age, would bring an end to this war, and improve the lives of many more to come."  
  
There was a silence upon which the weight of the heavens seemed to rest. Both young girls knew of who she spoke, yet her words left them speechless.  
  
"Now," Miss Kiria Banks said at last, using a tone as if she had been waiting forever to say this, "here are the instructions:  
  
"You are to sally northward through the woods with your two male companions. Of the following things, you will come to pass:  
  
"One: a unicorn as solid as stone Two: a village in which all hope is lost And three: a spring that does nothing but moan  
  
"Once you have passed these, you are near. You will enter a forest unlike any you have ever seen or dreamed of. Beware, for strange things lurk in that forest. Finally, you will find a lake. From that lake, protrudes a grassy hill. It is on that hill, nestled by the mountains, that you shall construct a refuge for young witches and wizards. It is there that you will educate underprivileged children, whose families are wanted by the OFER. It is there that a new wave of adults will be raised; all educated, all brilliant, and all understanding life and death. Education is our only weapon against the OFER. Use it wisely."  
  
Elizabeth spoke. "But -- how can we -- impossible --"  
  
Miss Banks held up a withered, trembling hand. When she spoke, her voice suddenly seemed to have been worn out from the commanding. It was now raspier and more difficult to hear than ever.  
  
"Look," she whispered slowly, as if it was an effort. "Look in, pocket ..."  
  
Her hand slid over her front pocket. Her eyelids closed heavily, and she slumped against the wall.  
  
Anna and Elizabeth, despite all they had been through, were both terrified. Neither of them spoke for the longest time, nor attempted to retrieve whatever was in Miss Banks' pocket. They watched the blue rope of light slowly fade into darkness on the floor, as the warmth from the Ancient's hand could no longer keep it illuminated.  
  
At long last, it was Anna who looked in her pocket. After fishing through it a with a bit of difficulty (for she did not want to touch the corpse), she found something.  
  
"What is it?" Elizabeth queried, no longer able to keep her silence.  
  
"I dont know." Anna said. "It feels like a bit of parchment."  
  
"How big?"  
  
"I can 'old it between my two fingers."  
  
Elizabeth made a motion to grab it, but a sudden noise made her stop. It was the screeching of rusted iron, coming from the direction of the doorway.  
  
The girls simultaneously turned toward the noise, suddenly fearful.  
  
"Anybody here?" a young man's voice whispered after a long silence.  
  
No answer.  
  
"It's OK," said the voice. "I've er -- I'm here t-to rescue you."  
  
"Who are you?" Elizabeth braved.  
  
"I'm -- well, it doesn't matter now." the boy's voice sounded nervous. "I've got to get you out of here before the guards wake. I only knocked them out temporarily."  
  
Anna started to stand, but Elizabeth pulled her back down. "We're not coming unless you reveal yourself!"  
  
"Fine." he boy muttered a spell, and the tip of his wand lit up. Holding it up, they could see a thin, pale face of an older teenager rimmed with orange hair.  
  
"Why you're the messenger boy!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "The one who interrupted Lord Moore back upstairs!"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, but don't get me wrong. I'm on your side. I hate the OFER. But there's not time for that. Come now, I know a secret passage out of here."brbrAnd so they obeyed. The two girls followed the young man's wandlight. They followed him through tunnel after tunnel, narrow passage after narrow passage, until they crawled out of the end of a tunnel and found themselves in the woods, just outside the OFER Headquarters where they had just been.  
  
Crouching in the rhododendron bush, Elizabeth seized the boy's wand and turned it on him.  
  
"Hey!" he cried.  
  
"Now tell us exactly who you are and what you're doing here." Elizabeth pointed his wand in between the poor boy's eyes.  
  
"I -- I --"  
  
"Speak, boy!" she yelled recklessly, pushing the wand ever closer to its owner.  
  
It was not the first time that day someone had said that to him, he recalled. Back in the chamber, Lord Moore had barked the same command to him. It was time he stopped being a stuttering fool. If he wanted to make it in this rebel's life he had chosen, he would have to be confident.  
  
"I'm Erich Feidler," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off hers. "My father is Lord Feidler, a member of the OFER Closet. Don't get me wrong, now, for I am no OFER member. I ran away from home to work in a portal just like you two. When I reached the portal, it was empty. I knew immediately that the OFER had found it not long ago. So I flew here, in hopes of rescuing people. As I flew over, I saw below me a mob of prisoners running free. I flew down closer, and just as I did, I saw a hole in the ground open up, and you two fall into it. I knew what I had to do. I pretended to have an urgent message for Lord Moore to meet my father. So I worked my way past a series of guards to his chamber. The plan worked. On his way out, he bumped into the table, and the keys fell from his pocket. I knocked out the guards -- it was not hard, for both of them are dumb as rocks -- and rescued you. So I wouldn't be pointing my wand at me, after I saved your sorry behind."  
  
Elizabeth withdrew coldly. Erich cleared his throat, and she shoved his wand back into his hands.  
  
"Well now that I've told you my story," Erich said, "You tell me yours."  
  
Elizabeth explained how she had been working in a portal, and the other night Anna had shown up just before the OFER found them, and then they led a jailbreak only to be put back in jail, and then were rescued by Erich. She mentioned nothing of Kiria Banks.  
  
"Oh Elisabeth," Anna added, "you forgot to tell 'im about Miss Banks."  
  
Elizabeth almost slapped her. Erich, suddenly noticing Anna, was taken aback by her figure. Like Elizabeth, she was short and thin. Yet unlike the black-haired Elizabeth, she had wavy blond hair like he had never seen, and a few specks of freckles upon her nose.  
  
"Miss Banks," Elizabeth explained in an irritated tone, "was in the prison with us. She was a leading political member who opposed the OFER, and therefore got put in jail. She talked to us for a while, I suppose just to hear her voice, for she died a few moments before you came."  
  
"But Elisabeth, she wasn't--" Anna started. Elizabeth elbowed her painfully as her more forceful way of telling her 'shut up we'll discuss it later.'  
  
"Oh no!" Elizabeth suddenly remembered. "Thomas!"  
  
"Thomas?" queried Erich.  
  
"Thomas!" yelled Anna, suddenly cottoning on.  
  
"Oh dear, oh dear," Elizabeth shook her head, "I wonder where he could be! I completely forgot about him in all the excitement! I hope the OFER hasn't done anything to him yet. He hasn't got a wand or any money, after all."  
  
"Who is Thomas?" Erich asked plainly.  
  
"He was working with us in the portal!" Elizabeth cried exasperatedly. "And he's still in prison, I bet. After all, we only freed our section of prison, which was the girls' section. Unless they mistakenly put him there, for he did have rather long hair ... but oh! We must find him!"  
  
"Well, I know where the mens' prisons are," Erich offered.  
  
"Where?!" Elizabeth demanded.  
  
"On the other side of the mountain," Erich hastily added, "but we'd have to climb a whole bunch a' boulders to get there -- real dangerous. And I left my broom at the entrance to the Headquarters. I don't suppose I'll see that again."  
  
"We can make it," Elizabeth decided. "We've got to. For Thomas."  
  
"Yes," Anna agreed, mostly because she wanted to show that she cared about Thomas, too, "for Thomas."  
  
Erich sighed. It was clear they would not let him retrieve his broom. "Well, follow me."  
  
And so the trio slunk through the woods, all the way past and beyond the OFER building. As the ascent upwards increased, the trees thinned, and they found themselves standing at the bottom of a hill of massive boulders.  
  
"It's just over these rocks," Erich assured them, trying to make it sound easy.  
  
But it was not easy. For one, they were now in the wide open, visible to anyone from any given point. As if that was not pressure enough, one slip or miscalculated jump could send you toppling down the mountainside or sliding down a bottomless crag.  
  
The thought of free falling for all eternity made Anna's head spin as she and the others climbed and leaped. The slight breeze made her sway, and she prayed through every jump that she would make it. She had never done anything like this before. Only twenty-four hours ago -- perhaps less -- she had been knitting in her rocking chair at home. Was she perhaps too hasty in deciding to leave home and find a better, more exciting life? And was this life even better? So far, certainly not. Would she ever see her family again? And what of the couple with the infant who had appeared in her fireplace? What would become of them?  
  
The heavy pondering distracted Anna. She suddenly realized in mid-leap that she was three inches short of the boulder she was aiming for. Her arms scraped the side of the rocks as she reached for its top. She felt for a root, branch, crack -- anything! She screamed and cried for help as she slid down the side of the rock. She was a second away from free-falling, down that bottomless crag beneath her. Just one more second ...  
  
Right when she thought it was over, she felt her arm being violently yanked. She opened her eyes and peered up. Grasping her arm with both hands, and almost sliding off the rock, was Erich.  
  
He pulled her up (with the help of Elizabeth, who had been holding him by the ankles), and Anna threw her arms around him.  
  
"You saved me! You saved me!"  
  
Erich blushed, "It was nothing."  
  
Elizabeth pulled Anna off of him.  
  
"Anna! Are you OK?" she began dusting her off. "How bad are your injuries? Let me see your arm."  
  
"Really, it is OK," Anna insisted, trying to appear brave. "Vee must carry on."  
  
Erich and Elizabeth remained closer to Anna the rest of the way. When they finally jumped off their last boulder, they had reached the other side of the small mountain. They were standing on a grassy slope, dotted with pink domes. These were the metamorphane prisons, just like the ones Anna and Elizabeth were in originally.  
  
"What's the spell to melt metamorphane, again?" Elizabeth allowed herself to ask Anna.  
  
"Err--"  
  
"Lorisakius, that's it," Elizabeth remembered. She explained what to do to Erich. "Now remember, we're looking for Thomas. Of course we're going to try and free everybody, but if you find Thomas--"  
  
"What does he look like?" asked Erich.  
  
Elizabeth strained her weary mind to remember last night in the burrow. "He's tall, broad-shouldered, shoulder-length golden hair. He should be fairly recognizable."  
  
And so they carried out the second (third, if you count how Erich freed Anna and Elizabeth from the dungeon) jailbreak of the day. It did certainly seem suspicious to them how they were getting away with this so easily, but it made perfect sense when you considered the fact that every guard, officer, and soldier was probably still chasing the refugees from the last jailbreak. And this was no time to think of that, anyway. The moutainside became quickly swollen with dirty, smelly men in a very short amount of time. They seemed to know what to do better than the last mob of prisoners. They immediately dispersed in every direction, causing utmost havoc.  
  
It was Elizabeth who found Thomas. Or rather, Thomas who found Elizabeth.  
  
"Elizabeth!" a voice boomed through the frenzy of prisoners.  
  
Elizabeth turned toward the voice, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Right here!" he pushed his way over to her.  
  
"Thomas!" Elizabeth was shocked. He looked so different! In only a few hours, his hair had been chopped down (though not shaven) to normal length. His usual tangle of hair had been cut down to a golden-brown mop.  
  
"You like it?" he smiled a much welcomed smile and ran his hand through one side of his hair. "Someone happened to have a dagger with them. They said that my hair was disgusting, and without even asking me they chopped it off. Good thing, too. I was getting annoyed at it, myself."  
  
"Thomas," Elizabeth breathed, very much relieved, "we've got to get out of here."  
  
"Is dat Thomas?" Anna appeared behind Elizabeth, closely flanked by the orange-haired Erich.  
  
"Indeed it is, my fair lady," Thomas took her hand and kissed it. Anna blushed and giggled. Erich's pale cheeks flamed with jealousy.  
  
"Come on, now," Elizabeth interrupted Thomas's relieving act, "this is no time for a tea party. We've got to get out of here."  
  
"Oh Elizabeth," Thomas shook his head. "Do calm down. We're free. See? What's the rush to leave?"  
  
Steam issued from Elizabeth's ears. "Do you want us to be caught or not?!"  
  
"You know," Erich said, rivaling Thomas in trying to impress Anna with his cool-as-ice attitude, "you worry too much. Perhaps if we just--"  
  
"Perhaps if we just chat idly while the OFER catches up to us then things will be alright?" Elizabeth started to back Erich up. "Oh well then, let's all follow Erich's plan, shall we? How about we all sit right here on the moutainside and wait to be caught again," she sat down. "Come on Erich, sit down. It's what you wanted."  
  
If Anna had not been watching Erich, he would have slapped her across the face. Instead, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at her face. "I'm warning you. If you don't cut it with the sarcasm and nastiness, then --"  
  
"Aww, forget it, guys," Thomas waved his hand. "Let's just get outta here."  
  
Thomas had a way of having people like him. It could be his honesty, or perhaps his habit of keeping his cool in tough situations. Whatever it was, no one hesitated in following him back down the mountain and into the woods. Erich and Elizabeth kept shooting each other poisonous glares and 'accidentally' tripping each other. Erich only stopped being nasty when he realized Anna was walking ahead with Thomas. He decided that the best way to get her attention would be to cut it with his immature acts. Like Thomas.  
  
While the prisoners spontaneously ran by them in varied directions, the four heroes trudged slowly northward, not speaking, nor really knowing where they were going. They only stopped when the sun set. They constructed a primitive fire (for Erich was the only one with a wand and he was not in a very good mood), and huddled around it.  
  
"Now," Thomas said, "I only know some of you, and not as well as I'd like to. We should each tell eachother who we are and how we got here. And if anyone has any plans for what we do next, since it's obvious that we're going to be sticking together for a while."  
  
Thomas started. Apparently, his parents had been killed by the OFER when he was little. He was raised on the streets as an orphan. At age twelve, the OFER had raided his neighborhood and he was imprisoned. Somehow, he had managed to escape. He was only eighteen now, though he looked like he was in his early twenties. He volunteered to work at the portal as soon as he was mature enough to.  
  
As for Erich, he was the son of Lord Feidler, a member of the OFER as well as one of the richest lords in the country. He simply objected to the ideas the OFER was based on. And that's what had brought him here.  
  
Elizabeth spoke on behalf of Anna and herself (Anna did not have much to say about her life, anyhow). This time when she told their story, she included the part about Miss Banks and everything she had told them. She told them about the queer instructions she had given them; the unicorn as hard as stone, the village with no hope, and the moaning spring. The group listened intently, taking it all in. They knew that Elizabeth was too serious to be making this up. When she had finished, she turned to Anna.  
  
"Anna, do you still have that bit of parchment you got from Miss Banks' pocket?"  
  
Anna gasped, suddenly remembering it. She fished it out of her own pocket, and presented it to Elizabeth. She studied it in the firelight. It seemed to be a beat-up, palm-sized book. She opened its tiny pages and saw very delicate handwriting, speaking of spells and inventions. Hundreds of tiny pages were filled with words.  
  
"Why," she said, "it's a book of all the spells and technology Miss Banks invented."  
  
She flipped to the end of the book. In the last few pages, there was an exact copy of the instructions Miss Banks had given her earlier. The last line read, This is your tool. Use it wisely.  
  
"Guys," Elizabeth said, "this is it. This is everything we need. Here are the instructions and everything. Do you know what this means?"  
  
They all knew what it meant. It was just too large of a task to speak of at the moment.  
  
"Well," Thomas leaned back, "it seems we've got our work cut out for us."  
  
The four stared at each other excitedly. This was for real. They were going to make a difference. A big difference. This was going to be hard. It was going to be exciting. It was going to be dangerous. It was exactly what they had each been looking for.  
  
"Don't you think," Erich suggested, "now that we're starting new lives and embarking on a new adventure, that we should have new names? Not to mention our faces are going to be posted all over the country by this time tomorrow."  
  
"Clever idea," Thomas remarked. "Though I have a terrible time with names. So let's make them easy to remember by having the first letter of our first name match the first letter of our last name."  
  
"I'm Helga!" Anna decided at once.  
  
Erich did not think much of this name, yet he smiled approvingly at her.  
  
"Helga what?" he asked.  
  
"Hogheinamenarison." It was the only last name beginning with 'H' that she knew.  
  
"Er -- english please?" Erich asked.  
  
"Oh jeez, I do not know any."  
  
"How about Harrington?" Erich offered hopefully.  
  
She wrinkled her nose. "Too hard to remember."  
  
"Oh, and Hoghamenama-whatever isn't?" Thomas laughed.  
  
"How about Hufflepuff," Elizabeth offered.  
  
" 'ufflepuff?" she giggled. "It is silly. I like it. Helga Hufflepuff."  
  
"I'm God. God Gryffin," said Thomas.  
  
"You wish," snorted Elizabeth.  
  
"OK fine," Thomas considered. "Godric Gryffindor. How's that, eh?"  
  
Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, better than God Gryffin. How about you, Erich?"  
  
"Oh I dunno." normally he had an overly active imagination that came quite handy in deceiving people, but he was quite stumped at the moment. He wanted a powerful name, like Godric Gryffindor. One that would impress Anna.  
  
"Well as for me," Elizabeth said, "I don't know about my first name, but Ravenclaw definitely for the last."  
  
"Why definitely?" asked Anna.  
  
"I have my reasons," she left it at that.  
  
"Well how about Rowena," offered Godric. "Rowena Ravenclaw."  
  
Elizabeth shrugged. "Sure. I'm bound to forget it anyway."  
  
Godric turned to Erich. "OK, Erich, that leaves you. If you can't think of one, I'm sure we can cook one up for you."  
  
"No, thanks," he said. "Plus, I think I got one. How does Salazar Slytherin sound to you?"  
  
"Like your parents are grave-diggers," snorted Godric. "But if that's what you choose, then it's OK by me.  
  
"So it is here and now," Godric Gryffindor spoke, "That Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin embark on a new journey. One that will not be easy nor even fun, but holds promise to the future of the wizarding world and mankind altogether."  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note:  
  
THIS STORY IS A WORK IN PROGRESS! Not to worry, this isn't all of it! There is more still to come. This chapter was incredibly difficult to write. For one, I started it around May 2002 and went away for two months during the summer. I picked it up again a few months ago (it is December 26, 2002). Then for some reason everything from when Elizabeth introduces herself to Thomas up to when Anna falls off the rock got deleted. Luckily, Alyssa had printed out the story a week before. Her story included everything up to when Elizabeth and Anna were put in the dungeon. So I had to re-write the conversation with Miss Banks entirely. In fact, I at first forgot her original name so I called her Miss Banks. I later realized it was Miss Featherly, but decided that Miss Banks was more suitable.  
  
All my thanks in this chapter go to Alyssa, who saved me from going insane. Thanks for printing out the story and re-typing so much of it. I don't know what I'd do if your eyes could stand to read the story on the computer.  
  
Oh yes, I would like to tell ya'll that I am aware of the anachronisms I used in this story (for those who don't know what that is, it is something used in the wrong time period). I know that no one in the Middle Ages (or at least I hope) said "whatever" or "jeez." I've modernized it, let's just say, so it's easier to understand.  
  
The chapters to come will hopefully be shorter. This story is not easy to write, so I'd like some input on it. I'd highly appreciate it if you wrote a review by clicking the icon below.  
  
Much love and thanks!  
  
~*Luna*~  
  
P.S. If you're interested in helping out with soon-to-come chapters, e-mail me at luna@wandlight.zzn.com 


	2. Into the Woods

Now that the adventure has launched, here's a brief brush-up on our heroes:  
  
Helga Hufflepuff (formerly known as Anna Nilsson) is a small sixteen-year- old Swede, who has a difficult time with her English, often resulting in her saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Despite this, she is all right. Her extreme simplicity of heart, almost dumbness, relieves the quartet in dire times.  
  
Then we have Salazar Slytherin, previously referred to as Erich Feidler. Though nineteen-years-old, his pampered upbringing has resulted in him being a bit immature. It's not that the heart of this gangly, carrot-topped boy wasn't in the right place. It's simply that he was not used to living the rogue life with other people his age. His entrancement with Helga often made him feel stupid, and his jealousy of Godric winning Helga's attention gave him mood swings. Yet the journey was still young, and he managed to smother his immature emotions for the most part.  
  
As for Rowena Ravenclaw (who I need not introduce), she was a tough, witty young lady whose caution often backfired. Despite her uncanny ability to solve a problem, her rough edges often led to her making the problem worse rather than doing what she knew was right. Though the other three occasionally commented on her appearance (tan skin, jet-black hair and coordinating narrow black eyes), which was foreign to what they were used to, she merely grunted and spoke no more of her heritage.  
  
Last but not least, we have Godric Gryffindor. Being powerfully built and possessing a hockey-player's haircut and forming goatee, even Rowena (though she spoke nothing of it) admitted he was devilishly handsome. Yet he cared not an inkling about his looks. He was too concerned with the quartet and their mission. Having been raised on his own in the streets, he knew one thing all too well: never reveal your emotions. And so he was capable of hiding all but happiness, making him seem like a carefree, easy- going lad who always knew what to do. It was this type of attitude that Helga adored and Salazar wished for. All the while being sandwiched between contrary emotions, Godric carried out his duties on the mission respectfully. He never complained nor doubted anyone. Though far from perfect, he was (though no one knew it) to be the one in which the group's fate depended on.  
  
The quartet slowly made their way northwards, all the way learning more about each other's personalities. As the early April spring blossomed to life, the quartet's moral skyrocketed. The woods in the spring were simply lovely. The aroma of fresh bark and the sudden explosion of colors around them softened their conflicts with one another. Salazar and Rowena, the two moodiest members of the quartet, even stopped bickering and traveled in harmonic peace for a good while.  
  
Helga was very much the mother of the group. For one, she was the only person who knew how to cook. To Rowena and Godric, having been raised on the streets, cooking meant pick-pocketing an apple whenever one could. As for Salazar, he'd had servants cook for him his whole life. Helga was relatively good-natured, and was always delighted to whip up a good meal.  
  
And while she played mother, she was also considered (though no one ever told her), the baby. Being only sixteen, she was the youngest in the group by a few years. The three others would often wake to find her missing, and she would arrive at the campsite hours later carrying a bundle of flowers. Rowena was not at all accustomed to such joyous behavior, and it made her wrinkle her nose in disgust and kick at a log to smother her anger. As for the men, Godric merely smiled and accepted her innocent happiness, and Salazar, well, he remained speechless around her.  
  
One such occasion happened a week into their journey. It was high noon, and the overbearing sun shot through the forest trees and beat down on their necks as they trudged uphill.  
  
"Godric," panted Helga, "may vee stop please? I cannot move another step."  
  
"Stop your whining," commanded Rowena, who was still disgusted at Helga for making the group stop so she could make a flower tiara, which lay droopingly on Helga's sweaty forehead. "We're all going through with this."  
  
"Helga dear," Godric called her this, for he had quickly learned that she would usually do whatever he said when he called her by 'dear,' "can you make it to the top of this hill here?"  
  
"I'll die," she muttered miserably. "You'll haf to carry me."  
  
"Very well," Godric sighed and knelt down. "Climb on my back."  
  
Delighted at her luck, the blond girl climbed onto his strong back, and she smiled widely as he transported her up the hill. Salazar eyed Godric jealously, silently wishing he would trip over a root. As for Rowena, well, you can only guess her anger.  
  
When the cruel sun finally set and they stopped to camp, Rowena snuck off into the woods and immersed herself in Miss Banks' tiny book. She did this often. She said that she was determined to learn everything in it, but it had also become a good tool for excusing herself from Godric and Helga's flirting.  
  
Back at the camp, Salazar was hunched over a collection of pebbles, tapping at them with his wand and trying to make them dance. He kept shooting furtive glances at Godric and Helga, who were bent close together, enwrapped in what seemed to be a deeply interesting conversation. Salazar angrily tapped one of the pebbles, accidentally sending it shooting across the campsite into Godric's forehead.  
  
"Ow! Salazar, what was that for?"  
  
"Sorry," Salazar looked down at his pebbles sheepishly. "Accident."  
  
"It's all right," Godric forgave him as Helga examined his bruise concernedly.  
  
When they turned back to their conversation, Salazar stood up, kicked the pebbles furiously, and stormed off into the woods.  
  
He walked for quite a while, not allowing himself to turn back to look at them. Oh, they made him so sick. The way she was examining his forehead as if it were an actual wound! Why did he like her so much, anyway? It was quite obvious Helga didn't like Salazar back, so why hadn't he just given up on her already? From the start, he had hoped to be friends with both of them, maybe even more than friends with Helga. But things were messed up. Helga liked Godric, it seemed. Godric showed little expression but he did not stop her. And it was that fact that he did not stop her that made Salazar angry. If it was himself who Helga loved, then he would treat her lovingly, as well. But no. Things just weren't like that.  
  
Salazar suddenly stopped walking. Someone was sitting on a stump a few steps in front of him. It was Rowena, hunched over that little book of hers again. He slowly crept up and leaned over her shoulder.  
  
"Whatcha reading?"  
  
She gave a frightened start.  
  
"Good God, Salazar!" she breathed, hand on her heart, "You scared me!"  
  
He smiled mischievously.  
  
"I'm reading about this levitating charm." she said. "I'd like to try it, only I don't have my wand."  
  
"Where is it?" he asked.  
  
"Back at the portal. I dropped it when the OFER captured us."  
  
"Well you can make a wand, you know," he advised.  
  
"Really? You know how to?"  
  
"It's quite simple," he said. "First, you find the right type of bark and take two strips of it. Then, you find a magical creature and take a certain part of that. It's different for every creature. For instance, if it were a veela you'd take a strand of her hair. If it were a dragon you'd take a bit of its heartstrings. Whatever you choose, you take a bit of it and sandwich it between the two bark strips. Then, you ask someone with a wand (which would be me), to perform the Encasing Charm. This would encase the piece of the animal in between the two strips of bark, giving you a home-made wand."  
  
"Let's do it, then," she decided, standing up.  
  
"Right now?"  
  
"Yes. I've been wandless for too long. I must have one before I forget how to use one."  
  
He shrugged. "Very well, then."  
  
And so with Salazar's help, Rowena was able to construct her second wand. First, they collected two strips of birch bark. Then, they had to find a magical creature. This part was not easy. They decided to try a unicorn. The way to catch a unicorn is for a virgin to sit in the woods alone and sing. The unicorn would theoretically come to her, and sit beside her.  
  
While Salazar hid in the bushes, Rowena sat up against a tree, singing the only song she knew. It was a queer song, one that seemed to be in a different language. Its strange melody was beautiful, and it entranced Salazar. It therefore did not take long for a unicorn to arrive. When it did, it knelt on its knees beside Rowena. She stroked its silver fur, humming all the while. When its pale blue eyes had been shut for a few minutes, and Rowena was sure it was asleep, she plucked a hair from its white mane. She crept back to Salazar, who was waiting with the two bark strips.  
  
"I got the hair," she whispered, not wanting to wake the unicorn.  
  
"What was that?" he awed in a hushed tone.  
  
"What was what?"  
  
"That song! It was beautiful! I'd never heard anything like it. What were you saying?"  
  
"Oh, that," she waved her hand as if brushing off a fly. "Just a little something I know. Now, the wand."  
  
"Right," Salazar took the bit of silver hair and sandwiched it in between the two pieces of bark. "Hold this," he handed it to her.  
  
Taking out his own wand, he closed his eyes and muttered to himself a bit. After a while, he said, "OK, I think I remember now," he cleared his throat. "Duos birchus!"  
  
An electric-blue glow rose from the half-wand, and the two birch strips sealed together, locking the unicorn hair inside.  
  
Rowena smiled and tapped the end of her new wand. "Does it work?"  
  
"I dunno," Salazar said, "why don't you try it out?"  
  
"There's a spell," she said, still examining the wand, "that I've been reading about in Miss Banks' book. I think I shall try it."  
  
"Go for it."  
  
She smirked mischievously and pointed her wand at him. "Petrificus totalus!"  
  
Salazar's arms sprung to his side, and his petrified body keeled over. Rowena laughed hysterically as he tried to speak yet could not open his mouth. When she regained control of her laughter, she waved her wand and spoke the counter curse.  
  
"Well," said Salazar, briskly standing up and brushing himself off, "I'm glad to see your wand works."  
  
"Do you suppose," Rowena smiled, for she was still trying to smother her giggles, "that Anna and Thom--Helga and Godric will want wands, too?"  
  
"'Course they will," Salazar said with a hint of malice. "But let's wait and see if they notice you have one."  
  
Rowena was perplexed. "But ... it just seems, efficient ... I mean, not just for them, but for the whole group."  
  
"I know, I know," Salazar nodded. His true intention was to test how much Godric and Helga really cared about the group. Surely if they cared about something other than themselves, they would immediately notice Rowena's good attitude, and if they really cared about her then they would ask what was making her unusually happy. "But let's just see if they notice."  
  
Rowena was perplexed, but agreed.  
  
Salazar's expectations had been lower than he thought. He predicted it would take at least a week for Helga or Godric to notice something was different about Rowena, given she did not tell them by then. Yet it only took two days.  
  
"Elisabeth," Helga said one cloudy day, forty-eight hours later. The two girls were hurrying through the woods (for it was to rain soon and they wanted to make good progress that day), while the boys were a hundred yards in front of them, checking to make sure the path was safe.  
  
"Rowena," she corrected.  
  
"Dat name is too hard to pronounce," Helga wrinkled her nose.  
  
Rowena shrugged -- a habit she had been adapting in place of her usual "deal with it" 's.  
  
"Dat is exactly vat I vanted to talk to you about," Helga almost yelled, catching Rowena's attention. "You are not mean anymore."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Not dat I am complaining," (Rowena snorted silently, for Helga did have a tendency to complain unceasingly), "but it is impossible to miss. It is nice, yes, but why de sudden change of heart?"  
  
Rowena considered what to say. Salazar for some reason wanted to keep it a secret that she had a wand. Why this was she did not know, but there was little entertainment during these times, and so Rowena capitulated to the game.  
  
"Let's just say I have something that I've been wanting for a while," she hinted.  
  
"Go on."  
  
"I did have one a while ago," Rowena said slowly, choosing the words to her riddle, "but now it's gone. I've gotten a replacement."  
  
Helga had a hard enough time with riddles in her own language, let alone English. This one took her a good five minutes to think over.  
  
"So," she said at last, "vat you're saying is you haf found someting you alvays vanted?"  
  
"Yes, perhaps."  
  
"Someting dat you used to haf," Helga continued with effort, "but lost ... and now a new one?"  
  
Rowena nodded, and Helga continued.  
  
"One dat is ... better?"  
  
"Right on."  
  
"Oh I don't know! Vat is it?" Helga cried.  
  
"You have to guess."  
  
"I really don't know," she pondered more as they continued walking down the woodsy path. "Does Godric know?"  
  
"Only if Salazar told him."  
  
"Ah! So Salasar is in on it, too?"  
  
"I guess you could say that."  
  
"I shall ask Godric when we stop to camp," Helga concluded.  
  
"I doubt that'll do any good," Rowena said, trying to make it sound like a big event, "after all, why would Salazar tell Godric such an important thing?"  
  
"Godric likes Salasar." Helga told her. "He told me himself. He said he feels he is not being nice enough to Salasar. He said he wants to be friends vith him."  
  
"Did he, now?" Rowena considered this. It suddenly dawned on her why Salazar wanted to keep it a secret. He was obviously jealous of Godric. He must enjoy knowing something Godric didn't, otherwise he would not have wanted to keep such a small thing a secret.  
  
"And plus," Helga smiled, unwary of Rowena's discovery, "I tink I know vat it is, anyway."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Helga simply smiled and shook her head. "Vee shall see."  
  
Rowena did not pursue. After all, whatever Helga was thinking was probably way off, anyway.  
  
When the group gathered and set up camp for the night (setting up camp meant starting a fire and clearing a good soft spot on the ground for a bed), Helga wasted no time in secluding Godric and herself from Rowena and Salazar.  
  
"Godric," she whispered, even though Elizabeth and Salazar were on the opposite side of the camp, "I think someting funny is going on vith Rowena."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"I tink ... this may sound, er, vat is dat vord?"  
  
"Weird?" he suggested. "Odd? Far-fetched?"  
  
"Yes! Far-fetched. Dis may sound far-fetched, but I tink dat Rowena is, er, romantic vith Salasar?"  
  
When Godric understood what she was saying, he chuckled. "That is doubtful. Very doubtful. Why do you say so?"  
  
"Because today she told me dat she and Salasar were in on a secret but didn't want to tell me. Did Salasar tell you?"  
  
Godric shook his head. "If he did, I've forgotten. But that certainly does sound questionable. But I still doubt--"  
  
She put a finger to his lips. "Shh! Look over dere," she pointed across the campsite.  
  
Rowena and Salazar were both huddled over, their backs turned to the other two. They were practicing spells from the Little Book, but Anna and Godric could not see this.  
  
Godric raised one eyebrow. "That is a bit queer. I'll ask him tomorrow."  
  
"No!" Helga said hurriedly. "Don't mention it to 'im. I don't vant Rowena to tink I am a snitch. I don't vant to lose her trust."  
  
"How could anyone think you were a snitch?"  
  
She smiled back at him, entranced by his brown eyes. In that short moment Helga felt trapped. She had felt trapped many times before at home, when she could not leave the house. But this was a different type of trap. This kind she liked.  
  
"I will talk to him tomorrow," Godric said at last. "But indirectly. I promise I will not let him know of our conversation."  
  
"You swear?"  
  
He put his hand to his chest. "Upon my heart."  
  
"Vell now, I vouldn't vant to break your heart, eh?"  
  
"I would certainly hope not," he smiled, and continued talking before they got caught in another nervous moment. "But now the sun has set, and we must put out the fire before the werewolves find us. Goodnight."  
  
~*~  
  
The next day was just as the previous: gray. The steel clouds encased the land, threatening an unexpected downpour.  
  
"Salazar," Godric said once he was sure they were far enough ahead of the girls, "I believe I have an apology to make."  
  
"Eh?" said Salazar.  
  
"Yes," Godric mustered as much confidence as possible, "as the only men in this group, we should be best friends. I'm sorry if I've been snubbing you this whole journey."  
  
"Oh, not at all," lied Salazar.  
  
"It's just, well, I'm used to living on my own, and I don't converse with other people very well. I am ashamed of my poor friend-making skills, of course, and I truly am sorry."  
  
"All crimes are forgiven," Salazar said with little expression.  
  
"But we are still not friends," Godric persisted. "This may sound odd, but I really don't know how to make friends. If ever I do have a friend, they sort of come to me."  
  
"Then why don't you ask the women how to make friends," Salazar cocked his head in their direction. "They seem to know a lot about that sort of stuff."  
  
"Well that would be odd, don't you think? Asking them how we can be friends? What do you think they'd say?"  
  
Salazar considered. He was not easily deceived, so he naturally assumed Godric was getting at something. Yet he humored him as best he could. "I suppose they would tell us exactly what friends do."  
  
"And what would that be?" Godric asked, acting like a teacher trying to get a student to figure out a problem.  
  
"I dunno ... er, share secrets?"  
  
"A shallow way to show friendship," Godric shook his head. "But if that's what you think they'd say, then let's see. Why don't you ask me a question, and then I ask you?"  
  
"All right, then," Salazar knew exactly what he was going to ask Godric. All last night, Salazar had been spying on him and Helga from the other side of the camp. While he and Rowena had been working on enchantments, Godric had been enchanting Helga, or the other way around. Who was enchanting who did not matter. What mattered is that he wanted to know something, and so he would try and find out. "Tell me, Godric. What exactly is your business with Helga?"  
  
Godric cleared his throat. "She's a wonderful girl," he admitted. "Very kind. Very considerate of others."  
  
"Is that what you love about her?"  
  
"Who ever said anything about love?" Godric asked defensively.  
  
Salazar shrugged. "If you say so." Yet they both knew Godric's true feelings toward Helga.  
  
"Well then," Godric continued, "what about you?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"You and Rowena."  
  
"Oh, you aren't serious, are you?" Salazar started laughing. "Rowena? She's a good partner. But me and her? You can pretend to not be smitten with Helga, but this is outrageous."  
  
"Why? Is Rowena not good enough for you?"  
  
"It's not that," said Salazar hastily. "You misinterpret me. We just think alike, and therefore find common interests. Like I said, she's a good partner, but nothing more," he paused and then continued. "And plus, with you always off talking to Helga."  
  
"Am I? Are we?"  
  
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed," said Salazar. "You and Helga are always off together. It's why it seems like Rowena and I are always together."  
  
"I'm sorry," Godric bowed his head. "We should have conversations like this more often."  
  
"Hm," Salazar agreed, "but how about a different topic next time? Like the weather."  
  
"Over-used."  
  
"No, seriously," Salazar pointed a finger to the sky. "Look up."  
  
The steel-gray sky had morphed into formidable cumulonimbus clouds.  
  
"Well now," said Godric, "I think we ought to find shelter, don't you?"  
  
He did not wait for Salazar's answer, but turned around and beckoned for the girls to catch up.  
  
"We need to make shelter," he commanded when they had hustled over. "It's going to downpour any minute."  
  
"We know," Rowena nodded. "It's started drizzling already."  
  
"But 'ow can vee make a shelter dis fast?" cried Helga, crossing her shivering arms across her chest.  
  
No one had any time to answer. A crack of thunder shook the forest, followed by a torrential downpour.  
  
"Head for the trees!" yelled Salazar as they all drew their cloaks over their heads.  
  
"Which trees?" Rowena screamed back. "We're in the woods!"  
  
"Follow me!" Salazar led them to a colossal beech tree, where they cowered in the corners of its massive roots.  
  
Salazar whispered in Rowena's ear, "Got any bright ideas?"  
  
Rowena always had an idea. "The bubble charm," she whipped out her wand and, waving over her head, screamed, "Bullus!"  
  
An aqua-colored liquid rocketed from her wand like a geyser. It shot upwards and came back down, forming a semi-transparent, liquid dome just big enough to surround the four of them.  
  
Had it not been thunder storming, perhaps Godric and Helga would have noticed she had a wand. But it all happened so fast and so perfectly that their initial reaction was 'thank the Lord we have shelter' rather than 'why does she have a wand?' So naturally, the thought lingered in their mind for a mere fleeting second.  
  
"What an interesting little contraption," Godric observed, pushing his hand through the liquid wall. It came out the other side, as if the walls were a dome-shaped waterfall. When he pulled his hand back, however, it was dry. "Very interesting."  
  
"Pleasure's all mine," muttered Rowena.  
  
"I am so c-cold!" shivered a soaking Helga. She plastered herself to Godric's side, though he was just as wet.  
  
There was an awkward silence, in which Rowena pretended to be drying her hands on her sopping robes, Salazar cleared his throat several times, Godric blushed a rarely-seen blush, and Helga noticed nothing of it all.  
  
"I wonder how long this storm will last," Salazar said to break the silence.  
  
"Oh not long, I'm sure," replied Rowena. "Heavy thunderstorms shouldn't last long."  
  
For once, she was wrong. The quartet was stranded in their bubble, listening to the millions upon millions of beads pelt the surface of their impenetrable dome. It was a good day before someone snapped.  
  
"That's it!" cried Rowena, suddenly jumping up from her seat on the beech root (for although they had a covering, they had no floor). "I'm going to go find food."  
  
"I'll come, too," Salazar suggested hastily. He, as well as Rowena, had put up with being in the same room as Godric and Helga for long enough. For twenty-four hours they sat next to them, as they laid in each other's arms as if nothing was wrong.  
  
They quickly leaped out of the liquid wall, while Godric shouted after them, "Don't be gone too long, now!"  
  
"Vhy not?" asked Helga.  
  
"Well they're going to get soaked--"  
  
"You vorry yourself too much." she put a hand to his cheek. "Relax for a second."  
  
"How can I relax?" Godric asked with an edge in his tone. "We're running from the OFER while traveling northward everyday on a mission that we don't know much about and don't even know if we will succeed! What are we doing this for, anyway?"  
  
"Shh," she put a finger to his lips. "I do not like it vhen you yell. Vee are doing dis because vee have noting else to do. And de rewards for success are so great dat it is vorth de chance."  
  
"That's very insightful of you," commented Godric.  
  
She flashed her curly eyelashes up at him. "Dat is vhat I am here for, no?"  
  
He smiled a smile that gave Helga the same feeling she had had before -- trapped. They held each other's gaze, and the world seemed suspended. He started to lean forward, and Helga closed her eyes.  
  
Just at that moment, Salazar burst back into the shelter, followed by a panting, dripping Rowena.  
  
"Look at what we've found!" Salazar brandished a piece of soaking wet parchment in the air. He was too excited to notice what he had walked into.  
  
He tossed the wet paper to them, and Godric held it up curiously. Though its ink was severely smudged, it was still legible.  
  
REWARD  
  
A reward of twenty galleons per criminal shall be awarded to whomever turns  
in any of the following people:  
  
There was a blurred image on the paper, in which a sketch of Rowena, Helga, and Salazar could be seen.  
  
The only identified member of this gang of criminals is Erich Feidler. The two women are unidentified. Suspects are most likely armed and dangerous.  
  
"Where did you find this?" asked Godric.  
  
"On a pine tree," answered Rowena proudly. "Can you believe it? Our faces are posted all over Britian!"  
  
"We think," added Salazar.  
  
"Look!" cried Helga. "Dere I am! I am on a WANTED poster!"  
  
Rowena rolled her eyes and Salazar sighed.  
  
"They make it sound like you guys are murderers," commented Godric. "Suspects are most likely armed and dangerous. I mean, all you guys did was lead a jailbreak, right?"  
  
"Nothing more," Rowena assured him.  
  
"Twenty galleons!" Salazar raged. "I'm worth at least fifty galleons!"  
  
"Most people in this country haven't even seen two galleons next to each other," said Rowena coolly. "And I speak for Godric and myself. Twenty galleons to us poor folk means a lifetime of riches. I'm sure folk are swarming the country like ants on candy in search for us."  
  
"Vhat shall vee do?" Helga asked hopelessly.  
  
"Continue the journey, of course," Rowena said. "And when we finally reach our destination -- that hill in the mountains on a lake -- we'll form a refuge like none other. We're gonna put a cork in this war, I tell yeh. Miss Banks lived and died for her cause, and so will we."  
  
~*~  
  
It was a good while before the rain clouds moved on, and the quartet could emerge from their protective bubble to feel the much-missed sunlight warm their faces.  
  
They quickly hurried northward through the muddy forest, anxious to make up for the time they had lost hiding from the weather. This time, however, they traveled as a group rather than the men walking ahead. The WANTED ad they had found certainly made them more cautious.  
  
"Let's play a game," Helga suggested after they had been walking in silence for nearly an hour. "I say dat I am going on a picnic, and I name someting dat I am bringing. You all haf to guess vat you can bring, and I tell you if you can bring it or not. De items must fit under my category. Get it?"  
  
"I guess," said Godric.  
  
"Sure," said Salazar, though he really had no idea.  
  
"OK den," Helga thought. "I am going on a picnic, and I am bringing flowers."  
  
"Can I bring a tree?" asked Godric.  
  
"Yes," Helga allowed.  
  
"Can I bring dirt?" queried Salazar, cottoning on.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How 'bout an ax?" asked Rowena.  
  
"Certainly not," Helga scoffed.  
  
"Is it things in nature?" guessed Godric.  
  
"Nope!"  
  
"Can I bring my wand?" asked Salazar.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How about my house?" asked Godric.  
  
"You don't haf a house, silly," Helga giggled.  
  
"Can I bring it anyway?"  
  
She shook her head. "Keep guessing!"  
  
"How about not," suggested Rowena.  
  
Godric asked, "Can I bring fire?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is it things we've seen on our trip?" Godric guessed.  
  
"Yep!"  
  
Godric did a victory dance, making everyone laugh.  
  
"OK, my turn now. I'm going on a picnic, and I'm bringing a cake."  
  
"Can I bring a mace?" asked Rowena, who was getting a pounding headache from the game.  
  
Godric considered. "Sure."  
  
"How about a broomstick?" said Salazar.  
  
"Why not."  
  
"Can I come?" asked Helga.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Is the category Everybody-Comes?" Salazar hypothesized.  
  
"Almost, but no."  
  
Salazar said, "Then what do a mace, broomstick, cake, and Helga have to do with eachother?"  
  
"Are they things you like?" asked Rowena.  
  
"Damn straight."  
  
The group laughed again, Helga the loudest and giddiest.  
  
When they set up camp that night they paired off to find dry firewood. It was an almost impossible task, for all the sticks and logs were still soaking wet.  
  
Godric and Helga immediately paired off together. Salazar shrugged and said to Rowena, "Let's get cracking, then."  
  
In an hour Salazar and Rowena had only found two somewhat-decent sticks for firewood. Distressed and annoyed, Salazar excused himself and said he was going to look for firewood elsewhere. He trudged back to the camp in the dark. He was hungry, cold, and tired.  
  
When he came within seeing distance of the camp, he was quite surprised to see a flamelight flickering through the trees. He started running the wet leaves muffling his heavy steps. When he was a few steps away from the campsite, he could see Godric and Helga sitting by the fire -- kissing!  
  
Enraged, flaming with jealousy, and determined to upset their relationship, Salazar began to sprint toward them. He had barely taken a step, however, when his worn-out shoes slipped on the wet leaves, and he went crashing to the ground.  
  
"Vat vas dat?" Helga broke away, suddenly staring into the woods.  
  
Salazar stayed as low as possible, breathing into the soaking foilage.  
  
"Probably just an animal." shrugged Godric.  
  
They went back to their business, and Salazar slowly crawled away. When he was far enough away from the campsite, he got up and stormed off, not quite sure of where he was going and not caring.  
  
How dare they! They were endangering the mission with their relationship! Things could be ruined; it could all go to waste just because of their selfishness! Salazar thought of all the bad things that could come out of Godric and Helga loving each other. He was so mad that he did not even notice Rowena, and walked right into her.  
  
"Ow! Watch it!" Rowena yelled.  
  
"Hmph." Salazar continued to storm off.  
  
"What's with you?" asked Rowena.  
  
"Why don't you go back to the campsite and see for yourself!" Salazar yelled back.  
  
Rowena did, and her reaction was not unlike Salazar's. She did not try and run in on them, but instead she waited until they stopped kissing and came walking in with dry branches.  
  
"Oh you've got a fire going already!" cried Rowena. "How ever did you do that?"  
  
Godric smiled at Helga and shrugged. "We're just good, that's all."  
  
Rowena clenched her teeth and dropped the branches. "Well then, you won't be needing these, I presume. I'd better be getting to sleep now, anyway. We've got a long ways to go."  
  
"OK." said Godric.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"You two should get some rest, too." suggested Rowena. "It's getting quite late."  
  
"We will." said Godric. "We're not really tired, though. By the way, have you seen Salazar?"  
  
At this, Rowena flung her hands in the air. "NO." She turned away and stormed off.  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning Salazar and Godric had gone off to find something for breakfast while Rowena and Helga prepared the fire, which had gone out overnight.  
  
Rowena had feeling to sour to talk much, and Helga's happy humming was putting her on edge.  
  
"Did you sleep vell?" asked Helga.  
  
"Like you care." muttered Rowena.  
  
"Vat vas dat?"  
  
"Did you sleep?" Rowena pressed.  
  
"Ack." Helga rubbed an eye. "Very little. It vas very uncomfortable ground, you know."  
  
"Hm." Rowena narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Helga and Godric had kept her up all night with their talking. They were enwrapped in a conversation until just before the crack of dawn.  
  
"Oh dear." sighed Helga.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Vee seem to be out of firewood. Do you mind getting some?"  
  
At this, Rowena stood up abruptly and screamed, "WHY DON'T YOU DO SOMETHING FOR A CHANGE? THIS MISSION ISN'T ALL ABOUT YOU!"  
  
She turned and stormed off into the woods. Helga galloped after her.  
  
"Elisabet--"  
  
"It's Rowena." she growled.  
  
"Rowena--"  
  
"If you took our mission seriously, then maybe you'd know my name by now."  
  
"Vat is de problem?" Helga asked, grabbing her arm.  
  
Rowena yanked away. "You should know."  
  
"Rowena!"  
  
She chased after her, Rowena running blindly away.  
  
"Rowena, stop at vonce!"  
  
Rowena said nothing, just kept running. She weaved through the trees, jumped logs, crashed through grasses, and ran straight into a boulder. She stumbled backward, grabbing her forehead. The collision left her temporarily blind, but her vision came back after a minute or two. When it did, she could see what she had ran into.  
  
"Ro-eee-nnaa!" Helga panted, stumbling into the clearing.  
  
She tugged on Rowena's arm. "Rowena, please! Tell me vat is vong!"  
  
Rowena just stood with her mouth open.  
  
"Rowena?"  
  
Rowena raised a tan arm and pointed at the thing in front of her.  
  
What she had crashed into was not a boulder at all. It was a statue of a unicorn.  
  
"How pretty." observed Helga, walking forward to get a better look.  
  
"Helga! Do you know what this means?!" cried Rowena, dashing to the horse of stone.  
  
"Erm, no."  
  
"This is the lead!" Rowena was searching the unicorn up and down with wide eyes. "This is what Miss Banks told us about! It was in the book! She said that when we came across a unicorn made of stone, we were on the right way!"  
  
Helga gasped and started talking so fast that she didn't even realize she was speaking Swedish. Rowena didn't notice, she merely marveled at the wondrous statue.  
  
"Vee must find Salazar and Godric!" cried Helga.  
  
"Yeah ... you go do that." Rowena's eyes were still glued to the statue in wonder.  
  
Helga ran back into the woods, leaving Rowena to examine the unicorn. There was nothing really to examine; it was simply a unicorn made of stone.  
  
"Vat'ss disss?"  
  
"Back already?" Rowena said upon hearing Helga's voice. "Did you find them?"  
  
"Human? Ah, not ssseen human in sssoo long. Sssooo lonnnggg."  
  
Rowena whirled around. "Helga, what are you--"  
  
Rowena screeched and jumped back. It was not Helga at all! Rather, a giant worm-like creature that towered a good three feet above Rowena. It held the face of a woman, only hideous beyond belief. Though the face itself was not all that bad, her red eyes, pointed teeth, and hair of hissing green snakes was enough to make someone die of fright.  
  
It sniffed. "Ahh, human smellsss sssoo good." It licked its lips with its snake-like tongue and gazed down at Rowena hungrily.  
  
Rowena shut her eyes tightly. She recognized this creature. It was a wormwraith. Anyone who looked into its eyes was turned to stone.  
  
"Are you fressshhh?" it hissed, advancing on Rowena.  
  
Rowena glued her eyes to the ground and found herself breathing heavily. Don't say a word.  
  
"You sssmell fresshhh."  
  
It now came so close that Rowena could see the texture of its repulsive leathery skin. She back up a few paces, and was suddenly pinned against the unicorn.  
  
"Come now, human. Disss von't hurt a bit."  
  
As it lowered its head, there came a crashing noise from the brush behind it. Rowena looked up (though careful to avoid its stony gaze) and saw her three companions running into the clearing.  
  
"Close your eyes!" she warned them.  
  
The wormwraith whipped its head around, but not before the other three humans had their eyes closed.  
  
Rowena slipped under the unicorn and crawled into a shrub patch.  
  
"Rowena, what is this thing?" cried Godric, staring at its disgusting form.  
  
The creature roared in anger. "Thing? Vhat is dissss thing?" it advanced on Godric, who fixed his eyes on the ground and stayed planted in his spot. "Long have we wormwraithsss been exiled from the human world! We have long lived in dese woodsss, fearing the brutality of man! Vhat have vee ever done to human? Dey judge usss! In self defense, vee eat dem! I haf not even touched you ssscrumtious little human, and you already call me a 'thing'? Vee are de few and de proud decendents of Medusssa, our mother who was ssso mercilessly murdered by a human! Vee protect ourselfss and dis foresst from humansss. Vee make sure a human does not again kill von of uss, for vee only defend ourssselfss! All vee vant is ressspect! And sssince you little humanss cannot provide dat, you shall die!"  
  
It launched its head at Godric, jaw stretched wide open. Godric ducked and rolled away, his eyes closed.  
  
"RUN!" Rowena yelled, jumping up from the shrub patch.  
  
They ran after Rowena, though it was a failed attempt. One launch of the angered wormwraith would move it forward at least ten human steps. It whipped its tail around, catching Salazar.  
  
"Help!" Salazar cried as it lifted him in its tail.  
  
It hissed as he kicked his long legs.  
  
"Hey! Put him down!" Godric yelled, pitching a rock at it.  
  
Rowena and Helga followed suit, and the creature and its head of snakes hissed in anger as the rocks pelted it. It was useless, however. They merely bounced off its leathery skin.  
  
She opened her mouth, revealing ominous fangs, and sunk them into Salazar's shoulder. He cried out in pain.  
  
At this point, Rowena whipped out her wand. "Petrificus totalus!"  
  
The wormwraith's body shuddered. Her head of serpents stood on end. Like a flame going out, she gave one last hiss, and fell to the ground.  
  
Salazar tumbled from the grasp of its slimy tail. His companions rushed to his side.  
  
"Salazar!" cried Rowena.  
  
He was lying face-down on the ground. She rolled him over. His breathing was shallow, and pulse slow.  
  
"Look at de cut." said Helga concernedly. Rowena pulled open a tear that had formed in the collar of his cloak. There were two bloody cuts, one from each fang, and venomous green veins were stretching both the wounds.  
  
"This is very poisonous." remarked Rowena, lightly touching his wounded skin. "If we don't find an antidote, he'll leave us very shortly."  
  
"How long do you give him?" breathed Godric.  
  
Rowena sucked in air through her teeth. "Not long. I don't even know the antidote."  
  
"Vhat can vee do?" asked Helga.  
  
Rowena stared down at her companion. His breathing was slowing now. She knew there was only one choice, one chance, his only shot at life.  
  
"I'll have to suck the venom out." she said at last.  
  
"But Rowena--" started Helga.  
  
"You can't." pointed out Godric. "Then the venom will be in you."  
  
"Not if I do it right." Rowena grimaced, touching his wound lightly. "I must do it. It's his only chance he has left at life."  
  
She looked up at the sky. It was a clear and beautiful day--not at all the mood. Oh why had Miss Banks said to come here? Had she known what would happen to Salazar? Was he just meant to die?  
  
"Rowena ..." Godric said.  
  
"Right." she looked back down at Salazar, and as she swooped to his neck, she whispered under her breath, "Don't go just yet."  
  
It took hours. Rowena would have to suck out the poison and spit a thousand times, and she still would not be close to done. Helga and Godric sat around and watched. They offered to take over for her, but she would not stop for even a second.  
  
"With every second," she spat out the venom on the grass, which had turned an awful black color, "his life is draining away more." she sucked out more venom, and then drew away to spit again. "We cannot waste time."  
  
It had been late morning when they fought the wormwraith. It was now bordering on dusk. They had spent an entire day in this clearing, with nothing to look at but a stone unicorn and a petrified wormwraith, and nothing to listen to but Rowena's spitting.  
  
They watched the yolk of the sun ooze down the sky and under the horizon, introducing a black sky with trillions of twinkling stars, like a black dress with diamonds sewn onto it.  
  
Orion was directly overhead by the time Rowena's spitting stopped.  
  
"Rowena?" whispered Godric.  
  
"Shhh, he's coming to."  
  
There came a coughing noise, undoubtedly that of Salazar.  
  
"Salazar," breathed Helga, crawling over, "can you see me?"  
  
"Of course he can't see you, it's pitch black out." remarked Godric.  
  
Salazar coughed again. "W-what happened?"  
  
Rowena breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Relax." her voice had gone hoarse. "The venom is out. Just ... rest ..."  
  
Rowena fell to the grass.  
  
"Oh no, what now?" Godric crawled over. "Ack, it's alright. She's just fallen asleep. No wonder, I'd be exhausted, too."  
  
"From what?" asked Salazar.  
  
Godric shook his head. "Just go to sleep, we'll explain in the morning."  
  
Salazar persisted. "Wait, wasn't I just about to be eaten by that wormwraith?"  
  
"He doesn't remember." remarked Helga to Godric.  
  
"I don't remember what?" demanded Salazar.  
  
"Do you remember being bitten by that creature?" asked Helga.  
  
Salazar scratched his head. "I dunno ... it's kinda hazy. I recall her sinking her head and ... I don't really remember."  
  
Helga sighed. "Vee need sleep."  
  
"But what happened?" he pressed.  
  
"Go to sleep!" barked Godric.  
  
"Fine." Salazar gave in and rolled over on the grass. "But when I get up, I'm waking you up to tell me what's going on."  
  
There was a silence for quite a while, only broken when Salazar said, "Hey, why's Rowena so wiped out?"  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note:  
  
OK so there's the second chapter. It is 1/3 shorter than the first chapter. I hope you like. And please excuse any gRaMmAtIcAl mistakes. This one will be a short author's note, so ... please write a review!  
  
Much love and distress, ~*Luna*~  
  
P.S. Thanks for editing, Alyssa ~_- 


	3. The Heat Wave

Chapter Three  
The Heat Wave  
  
Rowena did not normally have dreams. When she did, she discarded them, for they were silly and meaningless. But that night when she saved Salazar's life, she did have a dream.  
  
She was standing in the clearing that she had been in all day. It was still night out. When she surveyed the ground, she found that everything was as it had been; there was the petrified wormwraith, the stone unicorn, her companions (all sleeping)-even herself!  
  
She bent over her body and found that it lay sleeping, just like her companions. How peculiar.  
  
"Do not try and wake yourself." came a crisp, ancient voice.  
  
Rowena turned around and was taken aback. There was Miss Banks, just as she had last seen her, sitting on the unicorn!  
  
"Unicorns are lovely." commented the Ancient as she hopped off the statue. "Though I do think I prefer the real ones over stone."  
  
"Miss Banks!" gasped Rowena. "I thought--how could you--?"  
  
"Calm, child." Miss Banks held up a wrinkled hand. "This is just a dream. You and I are in a dream world. That is your body lying on the ground there, sleeping. And the you that I am talking to is your spirit. Do not try and wake your body. You shall return to it once this dream is over."  
  
Rowena looked down at the sleeping Her on the ground. The moon had risen, and from the silver light Rowena could see that she was not looking so well.  
  
"What is wrong with me?" asked Rowena.  
  
"You are merely exhausted." explained Miss Banks, sitting herself down on a rock. "When you wake up, you will have a sore throat, blotted vision, excessive sleepiness, and dark circles under your eyes."  
  
"All side effects of the venom?" sighed Rowena.  
  
"You did a good thing today, child. You saved your companion's life. It was not what the fates had predicted."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
Miss Banks looked up at the stars. "Lovely night, isn't it? You can see the stars so wonderfully. You can tell by their unusual arrangement that something happened that was not supposed to happen."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Miss Banks shook her head. "In my dreams which I told you about--the ones which told me to instruct four people to go forth and build a refuge for underprivileged people, and to bring an end to this war by educating those who need it--it said that the four companions were to come upon a stone unicorn. It was quite hazy why that was so important. But that was to be the first among the three signs you would receive that would tell you that you were on the right track. Something was supposed to happen here--you were supposed to get something out of this experience."  
  
"And what is that?" queried Rowena.  
  
"I don't know," admitted the Ancient. "Perhaps everyone will act differently now. We'll see. So far, you are all doing fine. But I am still puzzled by the fates."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The fates are, well, not right." Miss Banks tried to explain. "The stars are upset. Something went wrong today."  
  
"Could it be," Rowena hated to admit, "that Salazar was supposed to die?"  
  
She shrugged. "It could be. Perhaps he was to do something in the future that would be the downfall of all of us. Perhaps the fates decided it was better for him to die now, before he destroyed the mission. That is but a guess, however. Do not take my word for it."  
  
Rowena glanced over at Salazar's sleeping body. This insecure, red-headed young man surely wouldn't bring them down, would he?  
  
"You do know what this means, don't you?" said Miss Banks, eyeing her carefully.  
  
Rowena swallowed and nodded, diverting her gaze from Salazar. "I think so."  
  
"By sucking out the venom and saving your companion's life, you have significantly shortened yours. Both of you. However, he is eternally in your debt, and you shall be repaid someday.  
  
"But not to worry," Miss Banks continued, "you are doing just fine in this mission. Keep it up. I await the day you finally complete your mission. But for now, I must go. Dawn is cracking. Sleep well."  
  
"Wait!" Rowena shouted as Miss Banks's figure started to disintegrate into the air.  
  
She reappeared. "Yes?"  
  
"Will you visit me in my dreams again?"  
  
She smiled a wrinkly smile. "Of course."  
  
~*~  
  
When Rowena woke, her face was pressed in the dry dirt, and she could feel the sun beating on her neck. She rolled over and slowly opened her eyes, only to snap them shut again. The sun was almost directly overhead. How long had she been sleeping?  
  
"So she did that for me?" Rowena could hear one of her companion's voices.  
  
"You better believe it. Here, I think this one's done."  
  
"I vant it!"  
  
"You just had a piece."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Plus, I need my strength."  
  
"If vee hadn't told you vat happened, you vouldn't be saying dat."  
  
Rowena rolled onto her side and opened her eyes again. Her companions were gathered around a fire, over which Godric was frying something that smelled very good.  
  
"What is that?" asked Rowena sleepily, her voice still slightly hoarse.  
  
The three companions looked up at her.  
  
"Ah, you're awake." commented Godric, who was holding the skillet. "I'm almost done roasting this piece."  
  
Rowena crawled over, and asked with what strength she had (which came out as a whisper), "Piece of what?"  
  
"Bacon and sausages!" Salazar announced gleefully.  
  
"Bacon--and sausages?" Rowena marveled. "How did you--?"  
  
Godric smirked as he flipped over a slice of bacon. "I was woken this morning by something sniffing my face. When I opened my eyes, I found it was a boar. I attacked it, and, using my super-human strength--"  
  
"--or just my wand--" cut in Salazar.  
  
"--I killed it. Now it looks like its pig for the next week."  
  
"Excellent." said Rowena, grabbing a sizzling sausage off the skillet. "I haven't had it in ages."  
  
"Me neither." agreed Helga.  
  
"I think none of us have." Salazar said, even though pork was the last meal he had back on the manor.  
  
"Where you fet de killet?" Rowena asked through a mouthful.  
  
"Sorry, did you say something?" queried Godric. "English, please."  
  
"Killet." she pointed at the skillet. "Pan."  
  
"Oh, this? Salazar whipped it up with his wand."  
  
"Which reminds me," Rowena swallowed her food. "I have a confession to make. I've had a wand for the past week. I don't know why I didn't tell you guys. Sorry."  
  
"Really?" awed Helga. "How?"  
  
Rowena was about to explain how Salazar had shown her how to make one (placing a piece of a magical animal--in this case a unicorn hair--in between two pieces of bark, and then performing a spell that would morph it into a wand), but Salazar said that he would explain, since she was losing her voice again.  
  
"I think it's about time we all had one." said Rowena. "In case something happens again like what happened yesterday. We all need wands. It's just better like that."  
  
"I'm all for it." said Godric. "I haven't had a wand in years, ever since the OFER took it."  
  
"Me too." agreed Helga. "Vell, I did leave mine at home, but I can still have one, right?"  
  
"Absolutely." said Salazar.  
  
"Not." added Godric.  
  
There was a pause in which everyone stared at Godric. The corners of his mouth curved upwards, and the group started to laugh. It was not really that funny, but the laugh was much needed.  
  
~*~  
  
In order to make a wand, you need a piece of a magical animal. There were not many unicorns to be found in the woods. Now that spring was progressing into summer, the unicorns generally flocked northward and into the mountains, to stay in the cooler climates.  
  
Rowena insisted that they spend the day making Godric's and Helga's wands, in order for them to get the best quality of magic. However, the companions were wary of how much Rowena dreaded to stop, even for a day. So they make their wands more primitively.  
  
Godric plucked the smallest snake off of the petrified wormwraith's head that he could find. He sandwiched it between two bark pieces, and they performed the incantation that morphed it into a wand. Helga was too horrified to touch the wormwraith, so she tore a bit of niffler hide out of her ragged vest, and used that for the inside of her wand.  
  
The troop pressed onward. The sun now baked their skin, and their feet began to drag.  
  
"Guys," panted Godric after a good hour or so of trudging, "why don't we stop for today?"  
  
"I agree." Helga hastily agreed.  
  
"But--" Rowena started.  
  
"Rowena," Godric interrupted, holding up a hand. "Take a rest. You know you need it. There's no way we're going to make it through today alive if we don't stop."  
  
Grudgingly, Rowena sank to the ground. The soft forest floor DID feel good. And the sun WAS much more enjoyable when she wasn't marching in it.  
  
The other three also collapsed onto the soil. They laid on the ground, panting and staring up at the green canopy. There was a peaceful silence for a good ten minutes, only interrupted by a suggestion from Salazar.  
  
"Should we try and find a stream or something?"  
  
"They're probably all dried up, aren't they?" Godric reasoned, sitting up.  
  
"But it vas just pouring de other day!" cried Helga.  
  
Rowena sat up and shook her head. "All streams around here will be dried up. But we're almost in the mountains," she turned her head northward, "it'll be in about two days. There's bound to be rivers there."  
  
"Two days!" moaned Helga. "Surely vee vill be dead by den!"  
  
"There's got to be some way to get water." persisted Godric.  
  
"Maybe we can make a fountain come out of our wands?" suggested Salazar.  
  
"Well, does anyone know how to do that?" asked Rowena.  
  
Everyone looked at each other and shrugged.  
  
"We can make it to the mountains," Rowena calculated, "in twenty hours. However, we'd have to pick up the pace and take no breaks--not even at night."  
  
Helga groaned, and Salazar and Godric's hearts sunk.  
  
"Hey, I'm not anymore happy about this than you guys." said Rowena grimly. "But if you would rather wait two days ..."  
  
"Let's go." said Salazar after a slight pause.  
  
The quartet slowly got to their feet. They then continued traipsing through the woods.  
  
Unlike humans, forest creatures revel in the warm weather. The forest that day was alive with the hums of bees, the singing of sparrows, and the drill of woodpeckers.  
  
"WILL they shut UP?" Rowena finally snapped.  
  
This took everyone by surprise. Rowena was supposed to be the one who kept her cool, who bailed them out of bad situations.  
  
"Maybe we should stop after all.," said Salazar cautiously.  
  
"No!" Rowena yelled, making the birds and insects turn silent for a split second.  
  
No one spoke again that day, for fear of disturbing Rowena. Perhaps it was the poison, perhaps it was the mere heat, but whatever it was that made Rowena snap out at them, they didn't ask.  
  
Sundown came, and everyone was deadbeat. But as usual, Rowena would not hear of stopping.  
  
"Just think of the water!" Rowena told Helga as she struggled to stay up. "Only a few more hours--"  
  
"I cannot live for a few more hours!" cried Helga, kneeling to the ground.  
  
Rowena threw her hands up in the air and Godric stepped in.  
  
"Come now, I'll give you a piggy-back ride."  
  
Overjoyed, Helga scrambled onto his back. It was not long, however, before she fell asleep.  
  
"Good thing she's light-weight." panted Godric.  
  
"I don't know why you put up with her." Rowena said.  
  
"She's a sweet girl." said Godric.  
  
"You know, you don't need to pretend anymore." Rowena said irritably.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"We know that you and her are head-over-heals for each other." Rowena let the words sink in before continuing. "But you don't really love her. You think you do, but I know you don't."  
  
"How can you say that?" shouted Godric, the heat letting his temper get the better of him.  
  
She was taken aback by his sudden anger, but that didn't stop her from explaining herself. "What do you love about her?"  
  
"She's very nice," he pointed out.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And ambitious."  
  
"And?" Rowena was becoming frustrated.  
  
"And what else is there?!"  
  
Salazar, who knew to keep to himself, was aware that Rowena was trying to point out that he only loved Helga for her looks.  
  
"It's lust!" accused Rowena. "Pure attraction! Ever since she stepped out of the fireplace back in the burrow, you have been practically drooling over her!"  
  
Salazar said meekly, "Guys, maybe we shouldn't fight."  
  
"SHUT UP!" chorused Godric and Rowena.  
  
"I love her and I don't care what you accuse me of!" Godric retorted.  
  
"Well you're a stubborn fool!"  
  
"Well you're just a woman!"  
  
Rowena raised her arm, but Salazar grabbed it.  
  
"Stop this! Look at you two! You're letting the heat get to you, and you're bringing down the mission!"  
  
Rowena wrenched herself out of his grasp.  
  
In a silent, controlled voice, Rowena spat back to Godric, "Well if you're so manly and tough, then why don't you do this mission on your own?"  
  
And with that, she sprinted ahead into the darkness.  
  
"Rowena!" Salazar called, running after her.  
  
"Let her go." commanded Godric. "She'll come back."  
  
"But what if she doesn't? What if she gets captured?"  
  
"She can take care of herself better than any of us." pointed out Godric.  
  
Helga yawned.  
  
"Agh, vat is all dis yelling about? Did I miss someting?"  
  
~*~  
  
When the sun rose, the three companions could not have been more tired. Godric was the most weary of them, but out of the guilt he felt for Rowena, he would not let them stop.  
  
"We're almost to the mountains." he told them, though he had no idea if it would be hours or days before they reached them. "Rowena said that we would reach them today."  
  
"Vell how do vee know vere vee are going if Rowena isn't even here?!" yelled Helga.  
  
"I carried you all night, so I wouldn't be complaining." said Godric tartly.  
  
Helga did not speak after that. In fact, no one spoke for three-and-a-half hours. That was how it had been the whole trip--fight, silence, fight, silence. This time, the silence was not broken by a fight, but rather, the greatest news in the world.  
  
"I think I hear a waterfall," said Salazar. He had been hearing the distant crashing for a while, but he had not dared to say anything in case he was wrong.  
  
"Which direction?" asked Godric at once.  
  
"I can't tell ..." Salazar strained his ears. "But the ground does seem to be going up a bit, doesn't it?"  
  
"By George, you're right!" yelled Godric. "We must be entering the mountains! A stream can't be far off."  
  
"I think it's this way." Salazar pointed eastward.  
  
"Let's go." said Godric.  
  
"Maybe Rowena vill be there." thought Helga. She did not entirely like being the only girl.  
  
It was not in the direction that Salazar had pointed, but the distant rumbling was becoming louder.  
  
"It's this way!" shouted Helga.  
  
"No, no, it's more southward!" insisted Godric.  
  
They wove their way through the labyrinth of the trees in something like a treasure hunt. It was Salazar, unsurprisingly, who struck gold.  
  
"I see mist! Rising just over those treetops!" he pointed northeastern.  
  
The trio ran, stumbled, and crashed through the woods. It was indeed a mountain that they were on. And it was indeed mist from a waterfall.  
  
"Oh thank the Lord!" cried Godric, when he saw it.  
  
It was a small pond, lying atop slimy green slabs of rock. The waterfall was a good ten meters high--high enough for then to leap from it and still live.  
  
"O tak bro Dieu!" shouted Helga in Swedish.  
  
The water cold not have felt more heavenly. They waded in its goodness, whooping in celebration. They even forget about Rowena in all their happiness.  
  
"Look at me!" Godric had climbed to the top of the waterfall. Roaring like a lion, he leaped off of the ledge, and plummeted to the pond.  
  
"Bet you can't do this!" Salazar called from where Godric had just stood. He pushed off the ledge, did a full flip, and came head-first into the water. Helga applauded him and Godric looked miffed.  
  
They spent the entire day at the pond. Salazar found a lizard and (using his wand to make a fire) roasted it. The amount of celebration between the three of them could easily be compared to that of an entire country's on its Independence Day. When night fell, they laid on the rocks, staring up at the Milky Way, naming constellations.  
  
It was the best damn day of their lives.  
  
~*~  
  
Godric was the first to wake the next morning. He sat up painfully, stretching and yawning. He cracked his back a couple times. Sleeping on a rock was definitely not something he wanted to do again.  
  
"Helga, Salazar, wake up." he said, shaking them. They stirred but would not be disturbed.  
  
'Oh well, may as well enjoy the peace while I can.' he thought.  
  
But that wish was short-lived. A sudden snap of a twig a few meters off caught his attention.  
  
"Who's there?" he demanded.  
  
There was silence. Godric shrugged. Maybe he should wake his companions up, just in case.  
  
Then he heard a noise again.  
  
"Who's out there?" he yelled in his most intimidating voice. "Is that you, Rowena?"  
  
There was no response, and Godric turned to shake Helga and Salazar.  
  
"Wake up, you guys!" he whispered urgently.  
  
They stirred. Helga yawned and opened her eyes.  
  
"Godric, vat--" she broke off in midsentence, her eyes vivid with fear, staring over his left shoulder.  
  
Godric whipped his head around, and found his face millimeters away from the tip of a spear.  
  
"Don't move." commanded the man holding the spear. He looked like any normal man--he wore a white shirt and trousers typical of a peasant in that age. He was of husky stature and had a full dark beard.  
  
A few other people emerged from behind the trees, each dressed as muggles, each armed with spears.  
  
In an instant, the joy that had filled them from the day before was drained, and the cold hand of fear clenched the hearts of the three companions. The husky man ordered them to stand. They did. They were then marched at spearpoint through the woods, hearts pounding like stomps of elephants. Who were these people? They were obviously muggles, and with a wand could easily be overpowered. However, the thought of being turned into an instant shish-kabob did not appeal to the companions, and so they did not attempt to whip out their wands.  
  
For nearly an hour the three prisoners endured the torture of the Nazi sun and the three spear-armed muggles. The heat drove the companions mentally insane, yet they did not speak out of shear fear. They were all just about ready to capitulate and collapse to the ground at the mercy of the garretted muggles when they finally stumbled into a village.  
  
It was a sorry village, even for muggles. It consisted of a clutter of wood cabins and thatch huts. Naked children played in the dirt with grungy dogs. Women, thin from malnutrition, stood in the shade of the trees, washing the family's clothes and chatting about anything that would take their mind off the unbearable heat.  
  
When they entered the cluster of cruck houses, the life of the village slowly diminished. The women slung the sopping clothes on the sides of their washbarrels and rested their hands on their hips. The dogs abandoned the children and turned their attention to the newcomers. It was the site of their overbearing male masters armed with spears that restrained them from inspecting the three visitors.  
  
"Resume work!" barked the bearded man.  
  
The village did, yet could not stop themselves from 'absentmindedly' diverting their gaze to the prisoners, who were then pushed across the village and shoved into the smallest, loneliest, sorriest hut.  
  
There the three companions sat, panting, sweating, unable to formulate words. It was a sob from Helga that at last broke the awful silence.  
  
"Godric," she cried, crawling over toward him, "vat vill happen to us?"  
  
"They're only muggles," he reassured her, stroking her golden (not to mention sweaty) hair.  
  
"But--they've--got---those--tings." she sobbed.  
  
"Spears?"  
  
She did not answer, only cried louder.  
  
"Shhhh," he tried to comfort her. It was no use.  
  
Salazar's last strand of patience snapped. "They're only muggles, for Christ's sake! We've got wands, they've got spears. What are you blubbering about?"  
  
"Lay off a little, will yeh?" commanded Godric.  
  
"No, I won't!" Salazar stood up. "You guys are pathetic! You're so rapped up in trying to be safe all the time to stop and realize the way out of these things!"  
  
At this, Godric dropped Helga and jumped to his feet. "Listen, I've had it up to here--"  
  
"Stop it, both of you!" cried Helga, now joining the Standing Crowd. "It's the heat. It's made us all cranky. Vee must sound so stupid to dose muggles out dere."  
  
"Who cares what they think." said Salazar gruffly, sitting back down and leaning against the wall. It started to fall, so he sat back up. "They're only muggles."  
  
"What did you say?" said Godric.  
  
"Oh, must you fight about everything?" yelled Helga.  
  
"No, no, it's not that." said Godric. He had a new tone in his voice, as if he had suddenly discovered something. "What was it that was in the book Rowena carried around?"  
  
"Spells?" offered Salazar.  
  
"And the tasks." said Helga.  
  
"Yes..." the gears in Godric's head were slowly speeding up, "The second task ... was something to do with a village ... right?"  
  
There was a silence in which every mind in the hundred-degree shack was suddenly working overtime.  
  
"Something to do with ..."  
  
"Hope... being lost..."  
  
"No, no, it had to do with a pond that made noises ..."  
  
"No, that's the third one..."  
  
"It was a village that..."  
  
"No hope ... A village in which all hope was lost!"  
  
"That's it!" exclaimed Godric.  
  
"Could it be dis village?" queried Helga.  
  
At that moment, the door to the hut was flung open. The bearded muggle, this time unarmed yet flanked by two other muggles, stood in the doorframe.  
  
"Do you three speak English?"  
  
The companions nodded.  
  
"Show me."  
  
The wizards exchanged glances and shrugged. Salazar spoke, "Hi, I have green eyes and red hair."  
  
"Good. Now me n' my council have just talked this over, and we all agree that you're not the people we've been looking for. However," he held up a hand to stop Godric from questioning, "now that you're in our captivity, we give you two choices; remain imprisoned and be our slaves or help us."  
  
"Help you do what?" asked Godric.  
  
"I will tell you after you have made your decision."  
  
The three gaped at him, and he seized the moment and said, "I'll leave you three to discuss this now."  
  
He closed the door, then immediately swung it open again. "And remember, there are guards outside here."  
  
The door slammed shut, shaking the weak shack and causing splinters of wood to drift from the ceiling.  
  
"Well, what should we do?" asked Salazar.  
  
"What they want us to help them with can't be too bad ..." thought Godric. "Not as bad as being a slave, at least."  
  
Salazar started up again. "Hey, we're the ones with the wands, here! All we need to do--"  
  
"Fine, fine." Godric capitulated. "We'll do them they're favor. Anything but be their slaves. I just don't want to have to resort to pulling a wand on a tribe of muggles. That's low, even for us."  
  
Helga spoke for the first time in a while. "So vat vill vee tell him?"  
  
As if he had his ear pressed to the door (though it would not have made a difference, as the walls were thin enough), the bearded man re-entered.  
  
"Have you come to a decision yet?"  
  
"Yes," spoke Godric. "We want to help you."  
  
A look of relief mixed quickly followed up by anticipation washed over the man's red face. "Very well, then. Follow me."  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note:  
  
All right that took a while to write, but I think it's shorter than the other chapters. I hope this all makes sense to you, and that you are enjoying it. Of course, I can't tell what you think of it unless you WRITE A REVIEW. (please?) Gracious! Peace out!  
  
Off to Montreal now,  
  
Luna 


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